


Be My Forever

by angejolras



Series: the intertwined verse [3]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, F/M, Family Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Kid Fic, Multi, One Shot Collection, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-06-14 00:05:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 46,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15376353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angejolras/pseuds/angejolras
Summary: Parenthood has a funny way of throwing one in for a loop.





	1. how wonderful life is now you're in the world

**Author's Note:**

> wassup your (hopefully?) fave is back with more fic for the intertwined verse, feel free to send in prompts or let me know what you'd like to see in this one shot series!! this one shot series'll be nonlinear, so if there's any confusion as to when each fic is set, just let me know and i'll hopefully be able to clear things up! the length of each one shot will vary as well, so there's that too

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there's a brand-new addition to the family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **rated T, for basically being a slightly tamer, _extremely_ condensed version of intertwined**
> 
> set a few months after their wedding

* * *

Quite frankly, at this point in her life, Éponine had had _enough_ of debilitating nausea.

She was huddled over the toilet, retching and dry heaving, the foul scent of vomit hitting her nostrils and making her even more nauseous than before. Her stomach was churning, tying itself in knots, as she retched and threw up, wet chunks of vomit splashing into the water of the toilet bowl and making her feel sick at the revolting sight in addition to the pungent odour of it. Damn it, she wasn’t supposed to be feeling so fucking terrible on a Saturday morning—she had plans for the day! How the hell was she supposed to get through them now if every little vaguely repugnant scent sent her dashing to the nearest trash can or bathroom to hurl?

As she retched even more, she could hear the distant sound of footsteps approaching the bathroom and soon heard a knock at the door. “’Ponine?”

It took all of Éponine’s energy to lift her head from the toilet bowl, calling out weakly, “Come in!”

Enjolras entered the bathroom with Victoire in tow, concern written all over his face at the sight of his wife laying her head on the rim of the toilet bowl. “Mommy?” Victoire called, curious as to why her mother was sitting on the floor with her head laying against the toilet bowl rim.

“Is everything all right?” Enjolras asked, worry in his blue eyes as he put Victoire down on the tiled bathroom floor.

Éponine shook her head feebly. “Does it look like everything’s all right?” she replied a little too snippily before forcing herself to take a few deep breaths. “I’m sorry. It’s just…” She glanced at Victoire, who had walked over to the bathtub to grab her rubber ducky, and Éponine took advantage of how Victoire’s back was turned to them to mouth to Enjolras, “I feel like shit.”

Enjolras sat down beside Éponine on the floor, tucking some of her stray hair behind her ear. “Whatever this is… It’s been going on for a few days now.”

“Yeah, I know,” Éponine mumbled in response just as Victoire came back to them and handed Éponine her little rubber ducky, presumably in an attempt to cheer her up, and Éponine managed a smile as she took the little bathtub toy from the toddler. “Thanks, Peanut.”

Victoire smiled and pressed a kiss to Éponine’s cheek, saying, “Feel better, Mommy!”

“Thank you, baby,” Éponine replied softly, reaching up to ruffle Victoire’s golden hair. Turning her gaze back to Enjolras, she told him, “It’s just… I haven’t been this nauseous since I was—”

She cut herself off, dark eyes widening at the realisation as she slowly lifted her head from the toilet bowl, reaching up to grab some toilet paper to wipe the remainders of the vomit off her lips before she tossed it into the toilet, flushing it.

Enjolras tilted his head, brow furrowed in confusion. “You haven’t been this nauseous since what?” he prompted.

Éponine’s wide eyes found his, brown meeting blue. “I think I might be pregnant again.”

* * *

Enjolras brought Éponine a mug of ginger tea and she gratefully took it from him, bringing the mug to her lips and sighing when the tea hit her lips. He had brought her out of the bathroom and back to the living room, taking Victoire along with them, and the couple were now sitting on the sofa while Victoire sat on the rug, all of her focus on _Enchanted_ , which allowed Éponine and Enjolras some time to talk between themselves without any interruptions from their daughter.

“Are you sure?” Enjolras asked tentatively as Éponine took a sip of her tea.

Éponine nodded. “Almost positive. The last time I felt this nauseous was when I was pregnant with Vicky.” After taking another sip, she mumbled, “And technically we _have_ been trying for another baby for some time now…”

Enjolras felt his cheeks flush pink at the reminder, running his fingers through his golden curls out of sheer nerves. “It’s only been two months, though,” Enjolras pointed out, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yeah, well, it seems like I’m hella fertile,” Éponine replied dryly.

It was a dreary day in early January, about two months after the end of their honeymoon after their wedding back on October seventh. At one point near the end of their honeymoon, the two of them had decided to start trying for another baby, but neither of them had thought that Éponine would actually get pregnant after so short a time. Then again, they _had_ been having pretty frequent sex ever since Victoire started actually sleeping through the night, sleeping like a rock almost every time unless there was a thunderstorm, under which circumstance she woke up crying and either Éponine or Enjolras—sometimes both—had to rush into her room to calm her down.

“Do you want to take a test just to be sure?” Enjolras asked, placing a hand on Éponine’s thigh and catching how she smiled at the gesture.

“Yeah,” she responded, nodding. “I should probably do that anyway.”

“I’ll go buy you one, then.” Enjolras was just about to stand up when Éponine grabbed him by the wrist.

“No, wait, shouldn’t I go buy them?” Éponine asked.

“Just stay here with Victoire and drink your tea,” Enjolras told her, gentle but firm. “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes, tops. There’s a convenience store just around the corner, I’ll go buy you a pregnancy test there.”

After giving him a somewhat doubtful look for a few moments, Éponine caved and let go of her husband’s wrist, watching as he got to his feet to go put on his coat and his winter boots, pulling a beanie over his golden curls. He had just grabbed his wallet off the coffee table and was about to leave the apartment when Éponine called out, “Wait!”

Enjolras turned around, looking at his wife expectantly. “What is it, love?”

“Come here.” Éponine beckoned him over with a few hand gestures and Enjolras complied, walking back over to her and leaning in to press a kiss of farewell to her forehead. Once he had pulled back, Éponine murmured, “Buy two tests. Just in case.”

A corner of Enjolras’ mouth turned up in a little smile. “Will do.”

Victoire looked up at the sound of the door closing behind Enjolras, turning around to look at Éponine with a quizzical look on her little face. “Where Daddy going?” she asked.

Éponine placed her mug of tea on the coffee table and reached out for Victoire. “Come here, Peanut.”

Victoire did as was requested of her, getting up to walk over to Éponine and climbing into her mother’s lap as Éponine wrapped her arms around her daughter. Victoire’s eyes meeting hers, Éponine asked softly, “What do you think about getting a little sibling?”

If anything, Victoire only looked even more confused. “Sib-ling?”

“A little brother or sister,” Éponine explained. “You know, like how Adrien and Aimée are brother and sister. A sibling. What do you think about that?”

Victoire considered it for a few moments before replying, “I want a puppy!”

To that, Éponine laughed and leaned in to kiss Victoire’s forehead. “Someday, baby. One day.”

The two of them just content themselves to sit there on the sofa together, Victoire curled up in Éponine’s lap, and watch _Enchanted_ while waiting for Enjolras to return from the convenience store. Éponine finished up her tea, figuring that she might as well since she would have to be peeing on a stick soon to find if she really was pregnant again or not. She couldn’t help but feel a twinge of excitement, adrenaline rushing through her and making her head spin from the thrill of it all.

She and Enjolras could actually be having another baby. Victoire could be getting a sibling.

Enjolras soon returned to the apartment with a bag of pregnancy tests in hand, immediately making his way over to Éponine and helping her to her feet once Victoire had slid off Éponine’s lap and onto the floor. Éponine bit her lip nervously as she got to her feet, eyeing the pregnancy tests in Enjolras’ hand and swallowing the lump that she caught forming in her throat before she looked back up to meet Enjolras’ eyes, brown finding blue.

He reached out with his free hand to give her hand a squeeze. “Are you ready?” he asked her in a low voice.

Éponine nodded, trying her best to be confident. “We’ll make things work no matter what happens, right?”

“Of course we will.” Enjolras leaned in to capture Éponine’s lips in a tender kiss before they broke apart seconds later, Éponine taking the pregnancy tests out of Enjolras’ hand. After exchanging a long, meaningful look, Éponine took a deep breath and went off to the bathroom.

Moments later, she was standing before the bathroom counter, the two pregnancy tests laid out before her by the sink and a timer for five minutes having been set on her phone. The ginger tea Enjolras had made for her had helped alleviate her nausea considerably, and now she was just taking deep breaths to pass the time as she waited for the results of the tests, never tearing her gaze away from them.

This was so much more different than the last time, _infinitely_ different—for one thing, this time Éponine and Enjolras were actually together, actually married, and they had been planning for this one, actively trying for another baby, and Éponine couldn’t help but laugh rather feverishly at the thought of how far they had come in the past three years or so.

She didn’t dare breathe once five minutes had passed, closing her eyes before opening them again to look at the results.

Two lines on each test.

Positive.

She, Éponine Amélie Enjolras, was pregnant.

Try as she might, she couldn’t help but let out a somewhat hysterical laugh as tears began to fill her eyes at the sight, and she immediately called out, “Enjolras!”

Almost immediately, Enjolras came running in, blue eyes wide with excitement and slight fright. “What is it?”

Éponine bit her lip and smiled as she gestured to the pregnancy tests on the counter. “Looks like Vicky’s going to be a big sister.”

Enjolras’ gaze drifted to the pregnancy tests on the counter and his blue eyes widened even more as a mad little laugh escaped his lips before he looked back to look into Éponine’s eyes. “Really?”

Éponine nodded, grinning widely and feeling a single tear trickle down her cheek. “Really.”

Enjolras couldn’t help but smile widely before he engulfed Éponine in a tight embrace, wrapping his arms tight around her as she hugged him back, laughing through her tears and burying her face in his chest. Once Enjolras had pulled back, his arms still firmly around Éponine, he laughed softly as he reached up to cup her jaw in one hand, softly caressing her cheek with his thumb. “Wow. You’re actually pregnant.” He let out another breathy laugh. “We’re having another baby.”

“Don’t wear it out,” Éponine teased as she stood on tiptoe to press her lips to his, kissing him tenderly as her arms slid up to wrap around his neck while he dropped his hand from her face to wrap his arms tight around her waist, his lips curving into a goofy grin against her lips as she giggled at the feeling, reaching up to tangle her fingers in his golden curls.

She was breathless by the time they broke apart, just gazing into each other’s eyes as Enjolras wiped some of the tears off Éponine’s cheeks, his blue eyes glassy. “How are we going to tell Vicky?” Éponine murmured.

“I’m not sure,” Enjolras admitted. “Maybe we’ll bring up how Cosette had Aimée and Adrien? Use an example and tell her that the same thing’s going to happen with you?”

“Worth a shot.” Éponine took the pregnancy tests off the counter and took one last look at them before tossing them into the garbage bin by the sink, inhaling and exhaling deeply as her hand went to her abdomen, looking down at it with something akin to amazement in her eyes—her stomach was still very much flat, but she knew it wouldn’t be for long. Fuck, it was so hard to believe there was a tiny foetus growing inside her right now. She’d gone through it once before, but it was still so hard to process completely.

She and Enjolras exited the bathroom and found Victoire in the living room, sitting at the coffee table and drawing, crayons scattered haphazardly all over the coffee table. Éponine smiled at the sight of their daughter and went over to her, sitting down beside her and crossing her legs. “Hey, Vicky, can Mommy and Daddy talk to you for a bit?”

Victoire looked up, brown eyes wide and expectant. “Mmm?”

“Come here!” Enjolras had sat down on the sofa and reached out for Victoire, who beamed happily at him and immediately got up to climb into his lap. Éponine laughed at the sight and got up to sit down beside them, swinging her legs up to tuck them sideways as she rested her elbow on the backrest of the sofa, watching with a fond smile on her face as Victoire tucked some of Enjolras’ hair behind his ear, the most adorable little grin on her face. After a while, the little girl had settled down and she was looking at Éponine with an expectant look in her dark eyes.

“Remember when Auntie Cosette’s tummy got real big?” Éponine started, leaning in closer.

Victoire nodded. “Uh-huh.”

“Do you remember how Aimée and Adrien came a few months later?” Enjolras prompted, tilting his head sideways to get a decent look at Victoire.

Victoire nodded happily once again. “Yeah!”

“Well, the same thing is going to happen with Mommy,” Enjolras told her softly, stroking Victoire’s golden locks. “You’re going to be a big sister, Peanut.”

Victoire’s dark eyes widened even more as her eyes fell to Éponine’s stomach. “There a baby?” she asked, pointing.

Éponine laughed and nodded, bringing her hand to gently rub her flat stomach. “Yes, Vicky, there’s a baby in Mommy right now. The baby is still really, really little right now, though, so you won’t be able to see that I have a baby in me for some time.” She leaned forward to kiss Victoire’s forehead and smiled, feeling tears pricking at her eyes all over again. “You’re going to be a big sister, Vicky! Aren’t you excited?”

Victoire didn’t respond to that, simply looked contemplative before saying nothing at all as she slid off Enjolras’ lap to return to drawing whatever it was she had been drawing, leaving Éponine and Enjolras sitting on the sofa together. Éponine scooted closer to Enjolras, curling into him and feeling his arm move around her shoulders as she laid her head on his shoulder, watching Victoire draw to her heart’s content.

“When should we schedule an appointment?” Enjolras asked softly, twisting a lock of Éponine’s hair around his finger.

“Next weekend?” Éponine suggested, phrasing it more like a question. She was supposed to be going back to work in a few days and wouldn’t be able to go to any appointments for some time. “Are you free then?”

“Yes,” Enjolras replied, pressing his lips to the top of her head. “Next weekend, then? Saturday?”

“Saturday sounds perfect,” Éponine agreed. It looked like she was going to be calling Dr. Bourrienne again.

As they sat there in silence together, watching their daughter drawing stick figures and circles with a whole array of crayons, Éponine mumbled absent-mindedly, “Do you think we should take Vicky to the appointment?”

“She’s pretty well-behaved most of the time, I don’t see why not,” Enjolras responded quietly, still playing with Éponine’s hair.

Éponine lifted her head to look into Enjolras’ eyes. “We can do this, right? Take care of two kids?”

Enjolras nodded, certain. “Of course we can, ’Ponine. You and me? We can do anything.”

Éponine grinned up at him and leaned in to press a kiss to his lips. “I love you, pretty boy.”

Enjolras couldn’t help but smile at the affectionate nickname, replying softly, “I love you, too.”

* * *

“Well, congratulations, Éponine, Enjolras!” Dr. Bourrienne smiled as she walked back into the examination room, beaming at the couple and their daughter; Victoire was sitting in a chair by the exam table, swinging her legs and seeming lost in her own little world as she played with her Elmo doll.

Éponine’s stomach did a backflip as she sat up. “I’m pregnant?”

Dr. Bourrienne gave her a warm smile. “Yes, you’re pregnant. Congratulations.”

Éponine grinned, swinging her legs over the edge of the exam table as she gripped Enjolras’ hand, her other hand resting on her abdomen. “How far along am I?”

“About seven weeks along,” Dr. Bourrienne replied. “I’d put your due date at around mid-August, the seventeenth or eighteenth.”

“Wow.” Éponine looked down at her stomach, one protective hand resting against it.

Dr. Bourrienne typed up some of the information on the laptop she had brought in before she looked back up. “Ready for your ultrasound?”

Éponine nodded almost aggressively, wasting no time in compliantly lying down and undoing the button of her pants, pulling up her shirt as Dr. Bourrienne set up the ultrasound machine, clicking her tongue every now and then as she did so. Éponine’s gaze fell to Enjolras, meeting his eyes, and he gave her hand a squeeze and shot an encouraging smile her way as Dr. Bourrienne pulled out the transducer, a bottle of gel in hand.

“Okay, Éponine, you know the drill.” Dr. Bourrienne squirted out some of the lubricating gel onto Éponine’s stomach before beginning to run the transducer all over Éponine’s stomach as the young woman tried not to squirm at the cold sensation. Soon enough, a slightly blurry image full of black and white blobs appeared on the screen. Éponine, just like the first time she had gotten pregnant, had no idea what she was supposed to be looking at before Dr. Bourrienne pointed at one particular blob.

“There’s your baby!” she told them brightly, looking up to see their reactions. “I can confirm that your due date is the eighteenth of August.”

Éponine bit her lip and blinked back the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes as Enjolras gave her hand a squeeze, a little teary-eyed smile on his face at the sight of the little blob on the screen. Éponine turned her head to look back up at Enjolras, giving him a smile before she let go of his hand so he could walk over to Victoire.

“You want to see your baby sibling?” he asked her, giving the little girl a bright smile that made the skin around his blue eyes crinkle.

After considering it for several moments, Victoire nodded, hopping off the chair she was sitting in and carefully placing Elmo on the seat before she jumped up into Enjolras’ arms and he carried her over to where he had been standing before by the exam table. Enjolras pointed out the blob to Victoire, looking at her to see her reaction and smiling. “There they are!”

Victoire’s brow furrowed in confusion. “ _That_ a baby?” she questioned, completely unconvinced.

Éponine brought one hand to her mouth to stifle a laugh at the incredulous look on Victoire’s face as the little girl remarked rather curiously, “Looks like—like—” She paused, searching for the words, before her little face lit up with a bright, dimpled smile. “Looks like jelly-bean!”

This time, Éponine really did burst out laughing, as did Enjolras. “Looks like Jellybean’s going to be this little foetus’ nickname while they’re in the womb, then,” Éponine decided out loud in between giggles.

Dr. Bourrienne smiled at how all three of them were just staring at the screen, transfixed by the little jellybean blob that was Victoire’s sibling, and soon Dr. Bourrienne was pulling out a doppler to run it over Éponine’s stomach, whooshing sounds that sounded like a horse’s gallop seeming to fill the room.

If anything, Éponine just felt like crying even more at the sound of the heartbeat, letting tears flow freely as she listened to Jellybean’s heartbeat, looking up at Enjolras and Victoire to see how they were reacting. Victoire seemed fascinated, wonder written all over her face as she listened intently to Jellybean’s heartbeat, while Enjolras looked as if he was on the verge of tears, looking down to meet Éponine’s gaze and letting out a teary-eyed chuckle at how she smiled up at him.

Soon, Éponine was wiping the gel off her stomach with some paper towels Dr. Bourrienne handed her and they were sitting down once again. “We’ll have to monitor your pregnancy even more carefully this time around to make sure you don’t develop preeclampsia again,” Dr. Bourrienne told Éponine, who bit her lip and nodded. “I recommend taking calcium supplements and a low dose of aspirin later on in this first trimester as well as more frequent prenatal visits.”

Éponine nodded again. “Sure thing, Doc.”

In the past couple of days ever since she found out she was pregnant again, anxiety had gotten the better of her and led to numerous anxiety attacks at the thought of developing preeclampsia again, her nerves consuming her whole. After the initial joy of finding out she and Enjolras were having another baby, reality had hit them hard once they remembered how awfully things had gone when Victoire was born, resulting in Éponine sobbing in Enjolras’ arms that night in their bed once they had tucked Victoire in. It had taken a long time to calm her down; she had only stopped crying once she really began to drift off to sleep, although Enjolras had still heard a few sniffles from her every now and then at the thought of putting Jellybean through what Victoire had been through back when she was still in the womb. It had broken his heart and he had sworn to himself he and Éponine wouldn’t let the past repeat itself.

“It looks like you’re going to be fine, though,” Dr. Bourrienne assured Éponine. “Your blood pressure isn’t anything out of the ordinary and we didn’t find any protein in your urine. Still, it’s best to stay on the safe side.”

Éponine nodded yet again, biting down on her bottom lip. “Yeah.”

Dr. Bourrienne clicked her tongue and smiled. “Well, everything seems all right!” she told them cheerfully, getting up. “You know where the ultrasound pictures will be, right?”

“Yeah, front desk,” Éponine replied, never having quite forgotten all her appointments back when she was pregnant with Victoire, who was currently in Enjolras’ arms, clinging to him and clutching one of the arms of her Elmo doll behind his back, head resting on Enjolras’ shoulder and her pudgy arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

The three left the examination room, Éponine practically skipping to the front desk to pick up the ultrasound pictures of Jellybean while Enjolras followed, still holding Victoire, and it wasn’t until they were outside the clinic that Victoire demanded to be put down. Enjolras complied, holding her hand and taking her Elmo doll so she could hold Éponine’s hand as well, the three of them walking down the pavement hand in hand on that cloudy winter afternoon.

Once they were at a corner, waiting for the light to turn green so they could cross the street, Éponine perked up and leaned down slightly to ask Victoire, “Do you want to go get food, Peanut?”

Victoire nodded happily. “Yeah!”

Éponine couldn’t help but smile at her daughter’s enthusiasm. “Let’s go to Applebee’s!”

* * *

Éponine looked at herself in the mirror and frowned. When she had been pregnant with Victoire, she hadn’t really started showing until her second trimester; her bump hadn’t really become prominent until her fifteenth week and she had been able to conceal it under baggy clothes, able to wear her favourite jeans for a little while longer before they became too tight once she was about nineteen or twenty weeks along.

That, it seemed, was not the case with this pregnancy.

It had barely been two weeks since Éponine first found out she was pregnant again and she already had a little bump showing. She looked herself up and down in the full-length mirror in her and Enjolras’ bedroom, wearing nothing but a bra and those maternity leggings she had reluctantly taken out of the back of the closet after finding that her favourite jeans were already too tight around the middle, much to her dismay.

It was a gloomy Sunday morning, just on the verge of February, and Éponine could hear Victoire singing along to _The Princess and the Frog_ extremely loudly and off-key in the living room and Enjolras’ occasional laugh. Eventually, she heard footsteps approaching the bedroom and could see the door opening behind her as she kept her gaze fixed on her reflection in the mirror, seeing Enjolras entering the bedroom and closing the door.

“You okay there?” he asked, walking up to her and sliding his arms loosely around her waist. “Aren’t you cold?”

Éponine frowned and leaned back against his chest as he rested his chin on the top of her head. “We’ll have to tell the others soon, you know,” she murmured, smiling slightly when Enjolras pressed his lips to the top of her head. “Look at me, I’m barely nine weeks in and I’m already showing. Jellybean’s demanding to have their presence acknowledged. The others are bound to figure it out sooner or later if we put off telling them.”

Enjolras pressed a hand to her swelling stomach and kissed the top of her head once again, evoking the faintest smile from his wife. “When should we tell them?” he asked softly.

“I don’t know, sometime this week?” Éponine mumbled in response. “Aren’t we all having dinner or something at Combeferre’s place in a couple of days? Something about him being halfway through his first year of residency?”

“Sounds good to me.” Enjolras brushed some of Éponine’s hair off her face as she pouted at her reflection in the mirror.

“I look like I swallowed a fucking balloon,” she mumbled. “God, I look gross.”

“No, you don’t,” Enjolras contradicted gently, still rubbing her bare stomach, right over the spot where they both assumed Jellybean was. “You’re a very cute balloon. I promise.”

Éponine rolled her eyes and laughed. “You’re such a fucking sap, I can’t believe I married you.”

“You don’t seem to regret it, though,” Enjolras pointed out, swaying back and forth slightly and causing Éponine to sway as well.

“Of course I don’t regret it, pretty boy,” Éponine replied. “I don’t regret anything.”

Enjolras smiled and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I love you, ’Ponine.”

Try as she might, she couldn’t help but give a goofy grin at her husband’s words. “I love you too, loser.”

* * *

Combeferre figured it out the moment they stepped into his apartment.

No, to say that would be an exaggeration—when Éponine, Enjolras, and Victoire arrived at Combeferre’s place, the bespectacled man was in the kitchen, undoubtedly preparing some big dinner for when everyone gathered at his place. Éponine was quick to realise that they had been the first to arrive as she took off her coat to hang it up by the door, Enjolras doing the same while she stooped down to help Victoire out of her puffy little blue coat. Enjolras bent down to pick Victoire up once Éponine had taken the little girl’s coat off and the three of them went into the kitchen to find Combeferre at the stove in an apron, the scent of chicken noodle soup wafting through the kitchen.

“Oh, hey!” Combeferre turned off the stove to turn to face them, a bright-eyed smile on his face. “How have things been with you?”

“Just peachy,” Éponine replied, her hand going to rest against her stomach out of instinct. She didn’t realise it, but the faintest outline of a baby bump was visible through the flannel she had on, and Combeferre’s eyes trailed down and widened the tiniest amount upon laying eyes on the slight curve of Éponine’s stomach.

“You’re pregnant, aren’t you?” he immediately asked, looking back up to meet Éponine’s eyes, looking back and forth between her and Enjolras.

Éponine’s mouth dropped open in slight indignation as she let out a little noise of surprise. “We were going to announce it later after dinner!” she cried out crossly, crossing her arms across her chest.

Combeferre simply smiled, a twinkle in his eye as he told them, “Well, congrats. Hopefully things won’t go so terribly this time around.”

Enjolras winced at the reminder. “Yeah, we hope so too.”

Victoire had been quiet up to this point, in a bit of a daze as she rested her head against Enjolras’ shoulder, and she let out a yawn, eliciting a chuckle from Combeferre. “Someone’s sleepy,” he commented.

Victoire lifted her head up slightly and a sleepy little smile spread across her face at the sight of her godfather. “Unca ’Ferre!”

She stretched her arms out towards Combeferre, reaching towards him, and Enjolras quickly got the hint and passed her over to Combeferre, who smiled once his goddaughter was in his arms. “Hey, Victoire,” he greeted softly, ruffling her golden hair. “You’re getting big, aren’t you?”

Victoire simply giggled and reached up to play with Combeferre’s glasses as he scrunched up his face, letting her toy a little bit with the frames before he gently pushed her off of him, putting her down on the floor. He turned back to Éponine and Enjolras, hands on his hips.

“When will the others get here, you think?” Éponine asked as she watched Victoire run off into the living room out of the corner of her eye, Enjolras soon following to watch her and leaving Éponine in the kitchen with Combeferre.

“Not sure,” Combeferre admitted, turning back to the stove and turning it back on as Éponine walked up to stand beside him. Deciding to change the subject, he asked as he stirred the chicken noodle soup, “So how have you been? Been eating healthy? Avoiding seafood? Caffeine? Alcohol?”

Éponine rolled her eyes in amusement, replying, “I’m doing just fine, ’Ferre. I know what not to do when pregnant now. Dr. Bourrienne said I should visit her more often to get me checked up so things won’t go down the way they did last time. I don’t think I’d be able to go through with preeclampsia and shit again.”

“Let’s hope that won’t be the case this time,” Combeferre agreed, moving on to a giant pot of what Éponine thought was penne pasta.

“How’s your residency going?” Éponine questioned curiously, looking up at Combeferre and cocking her head to the side.

“Just fine,” Combeferre replied, a slight smile on his face. “The pay is decent, I suppose. I’ve witnessed a _lot_ of births already, and it’s only been six months.”

Their heads both turned in tandem upon hearing the sound of the doorbell, quickly followed by Victoire running to go answer the door with Enjolras at her heels. Éponine languidly walked towards the door with a hand resting against her stomach as Victoire excitedly pulled the heavy door open with Enjolras’ help to reveal Grantaire and Toby standing there amidst the snow.

Victoire’s little face lit up and she cried out happily, “Unca R!”

Grantaire grinned down at the little girl and stepped inside, placing Toby down on the floor to shake the snow off his fur before he scooped Victoire up in his arms, blowing raspberries on her stomach and making her shriek with laughter. “Looks like the whole Enjolras clan is here,” he remarked once Victoire had pleaded through her giggles for him to stop, looking at Éponine and Enjolras. “How’re you two?”

“Great,” Éponine responded easily, rubbing her stomach. “We’ve been great.”

Grantaire was about to open his mouth to say something else when he stopped, narrowing his eyes at Éponine and looking her up and down. “You look different,” he commented rather suspiciously, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

Éponine raised an eyebrow. “Do I?”

Victoire slid down to the floor out of Grantaire’s arms and started tugging him in the direction of the little reading room Combeferre had in his apartment, leaving Grantaire with no choice but to let the little girl drag him over there, though he still eyed Éponine and Enjolras through narrowed eyes over his shoulder as Victoire dragged him into the reading room. Éponine watched with a little smile on her face as Enjolras slid an arm loosely around her waist, pulling her closer to him and making her smile grow even wider.

“I love her so much,” Éponine murmured, watching as Grantaire followed Victoire to the bookshelves, watching the little girl picking out one of the Harry Potter books—Éponine’s chest swelled with pride, she and Enjolras had taught Victoire well—and seeming to talk Grantaire into reading it to her. Tearing her gaze away from Victoire to look up at her husband—it had been a few months since their wedding and it still felt so surreal to be thinking of Enjolras as her _husband_ , God—she asked softly, “Where should Jellybean stay once they’re born? We only have one other room, and that’s Vicky’s bedroom.”

“We can turn my home office into a nursery for Jellybean,” Enjolras suggested quietly. “We have plenty of space in our own bedroom to put my desk there. We can find a spacier apartment once Jellybean is a year or so old. Three or more bedrooms, I think that would accommodate two kids pretty well.”

“What’s this about two kids?” The two of them whipped around to find that Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta had arrived, the words having left Bossuet’s mouth. He was staring at them with a strange look on his face as Musichetta and Joly hung their coats up by the door, taking off their shoes. “Are you two having another kid?”

Enjolras’ cheeks flamed red at nearly being caught as Éponine replied a little too quickly, “That’s none of your business.”

Bossuet didn’t know what to make of that, simply gave the couple a strange look before he trudged off to find Grantaire, who was currently in the armchair in the reading room with Victoire in his lap, reading Harry Potter out loud to the little girl. Joly soon followed Bossuet while Musichetta approached Éponine and Enjolras, a warm smile on her face.

“Hey!” she greeted cheerfully, embracing Éponine before moving on to hug Enjolras as well. “How’s married life been treating you?”

Éponine laughed and pulled Enjolras closer to her, arm around his waist with his arm around her shoulders as she replied, “We’ve been just peachy. It’s been amazing so far.” Looking up at Enjolras with an adoring look in her dark eyes, Éponine murmured, “I’ve got the best hubby ever, what more could I ask for?”

Musichetta cooed at how Enjolras’ cheeks flushed pink at his wife’s words, smiling at them both as Enjolras buried his face in Éponine’s hair, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Fuck, you two are adorable,” she remarked, tossing some hair over her shoulder. “It’s sickening.”

Éponine cackled and shoved Musichetta. “Oh, fuck off.”

Musichetta merely grinned, her gaze trailing down, and she cocked her head upon seeing how Éponine’s figure looked different, although she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. “Did you gain weight?” Musichetta asked bluntly, looking back up at Éponine with a curious look on her face, almost bordering on suspicion.

Éponine shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I might have. What’s it to you?”

Musichetta said nothing else, simply gave Éponine and Enjolras a curious look before she sauntered off to join her boyfriends wherever the fuck they were, leaving the couple there alone together in the entrance hall. “Honestly, at this rate, the others will probably figure things out before dinner ends,” Éponine murmured to Enjolras, looking up at him.

Enjolras shrugged. “Go ahead and tell them whenever you want, I don’t mind. We might as well.”

Approximately another half hour passed before everyone had already gathered at Combeferre’s, Marius and Cosette arriving with their twins shortly after Bahorel and Feuilly made an appearance, Jehan soon following as well as Courfeyrac, Azelma, and little Louis, whose second birthday was rapidly approaching. Once Gavroche had arrived and gotten out of his coat and boots, Combeferre called everyone to the dining room, and Éponine found herself wondering how Combeferre had enough space for _nineteen people_ at the dining table, for someone who lived alone. She didn’t question it, though, taking a seat between Victoire and Enjolras, Grantaire sitting on Victoire’s opposite side with Jehan adjacent to him.

Dinner was more or less a quiet event, most of the Amis making light conversation between themselves, careful not to grow too rowdy so not to disturb the children present—Marius and Cosette were feeding Aimée and Adrien while Louis had just finished eating the chicken noodle soup Courfeyrac had been spooning into his mouth. Éponine glanced sideways at Victoire—the little girl had pasta sauce smeared all over her chin, lips, and cheeks, a result of her few clumsy attempts to feed herself pasta before Grantaire decided to take matters into his own hands and started feeding her, and Éponine resisted a smile as she watched Grantaire wipe the pasta sauce off Victoire’s cheeks and chin with a napkin. Throughout most of the meal, Éponine focused largely on eating a bit of almost everything Combeferre had served, jarring a few of the others somewhat at how much she was eating, and how rapidly, too.

“Somebody’s hungry,” Feuilly commented, cracking a curious little smile as Éponine piled her third helping of mashed potatoes onto her plate.

“Starving,” she replied thickly through a mouthful of mashed potato, unthinkingly going on, “Could also have something to do with how I’m eating for two now.”

Everyone promptly fell silent at Éponine’s slip-up, staring at her and Enjolras through wide eyes as a hush fell upon the dining room, broken only by the sound of Marius and Cosette’s twins babbling between themselves every now and then, and Louis asking Azelma and Courfeyrac about what was going on through choppy, butchered sentences typical of an almost two-year-old. Grantaire’s green eyes were wide as saucers as he stared in disbelief at Éponine, hardly able to believe what he had just heard, having started choking on his potatoes at Éponine’s accidental confession before he managed to swallow the half-chewed potatoes.

“Did we all hear you right?” he managed to choke out, looking back and forth between Éponine and Enjolras, and Victoire, every now and then.

“I think we did, yeah,” Joly murmured, staring at the couple and their daughter.

Éponine looked around at all of them, noticing how Enjolras looked like a deer caught in headlights, so she merely flashed everyone a sheepish smile, a faint blush colouring her cheeks. “So did I mention I’m pregnant?”

She hadn’t thought it was possible for Grantaire’s eyes to grow even wider, but they did.

Bahorel’s jaw fell, his mouth hanging open, and without a second thought, he blurted out, “Holy _shi_ —” before being cut short by Feuilly slapping a hand over his mouth, gesturing pointedly to the little children present. Louis remained oblivious, still demanding to know what was going on, while Aimée and Adrien were now playing around with their little bean bag cats, completely occupied and oblivious to everyone else, Victoire sitting there and staring up at her mother as Éponine grinned sheepishly at all of them.

“Yep,” she said aloud when nobody spoke, just staring at her in complete shock. “My darling husband over here knocked me up a second time, we’re having another baby. Vicky’s getting a sibling.” She turned her head to glance at Enjolras, who was blushing something fierce under the weight of everyone’s gazes, and she reached up to ruffle his curls to try and distract from the others, giving him a little smile.

Everyone was silent for a few moments more before Éponine was deafened by the noise of the chaos that ensued.

She could barely hear anything in between their shouts of congratulations and constant questions, finding herself overwhelmed as the Amis peppered her with questions and made her unable to think straight, unable to properly hear anything, their voices were so jumbled, many of them attempting to talk over each other. “God, you guys are loud,” Éponine muttered to herself, pushing her chair back and getting up to make her way to the bathroom without bothering to excuse herself.

Immediately, everyone began to direct their incessant questions to Enjolras, much to his mortification. Combeferre eventually took notice of how Enjolras was beginning to look as if he wanted to crawl into a hole from the sheer amount of questions the others were currently bombarding him with and called out, “Could you all please quiet down? Please?”

Everyone instantly quieted down, and Enjolras had never envied Combeferre’s mom friend power more.

Combeferre clicked his tongue in satisfaction, asking as if the dining room had become a classroom full of first graders, “All right, first question, who wants to go first?”

Joly, bless him, actually _raised his hand_ , and Enjolras glanced over upon hearing Courfeyrac let out a squawk of laughter at how damn precious Joly was. Rolling his eyes, the blond turned his attention back to Joly, who questioned curiously, “How far along is she?”

“Almost ten weeks,” Enjolras replied.

“Are you guys finally going to name one of your kids after me?” Musichetta called out, toying with a fork in what seemed to be an attempt to exude an air of nonchalance.

Enjolras snorted, shaking his head. “No.”

“Suit yourself.”

“When did you two find out?” Jehan asked, leaning forward in order to get a proper look at Enjolras from his spot beside Grantaire.

“About three weeks ago,” Enjolras supplied.

“Are you excited, Vicky?” Grantaire’s attention was entirely on Victoire, who had finished her food at this point, and she looked up upon hearing her name being spoken, glancing at Grantaire through wide brown eyes. After considering his words for a few moments, she wound up not responding at all, returning to staring at her empty plate of food while swinging her legs under the table.

Grantaire looked back up, managing to catch Enjolras’ attention by clearing his throat. “Aren’t you worried about any possible sibling rivalry between Vicky and the little one?” Grantaire asked.

“We call the baby Jellybean, Victoire nicknamed them that,” Enjolras replied. “And well… I’m not sure, actually. The closest thing I had to siblings were cousins and ’Ferre while growing up, and I didn’t have to put up with them twenty-four/seven the way siblings do, so honestly, I have no idea. I’m sure ’Ponine and I will intervene should the need to do so come up at some point, when Victoire and Jellybean are a little bit older.”

“What did I miss?” Éponine was back at the table, one eyebrow raised as she took her seat next to Enjolras.

“Congratulations!” Feuilly said out of the blue, beaming at Éponine. “We’re so happy for you guys, you’re having another kid!”

“I knew you gained weight,” Musichetta remarked under her breath, mostly to herself, a bit of a triumphant smirk playing at her lips. Éponine rolled her eyes and resisted the urge to flip Musichetta off, if only because of the possibility that Victoire, Louis, Aimée, and Adrien could be watching.

“Aw, you look so cute,” Bossuet commented, smiling warmly at Éponine. “With your little bump.”

Éponine let out a dry laugh. “I’m already showing and I’m not even ten weeks in, can you believe?” She looked down at her little baby bump through her flannel, patting it affectionately. “Jellybean’s demanding to be known to the world.”

“They will be soon enough,” Combeferre promised her, to which she gave him a faux-exasperated look.

Enjolras chuckled and put an arm around his wife, pulling Éponine close to him and rubbing her arm. Once the others had satisfied themselves with the couple’s answers, they went about giving themselves second helpings of food, Éponine glanced up at Enjolras to give him an almost smug sort of smile, his arm still around her. Not until long, Victoire was demanding their attention once again, and Enjolras took that as his cue to pull Victoire into his lap as she spoke in choppy little sentences to Éponine’s bump.

Bahorel soon caught sight of what the little family was doing, what with Victoire in Enjolras’ lap and the two of them talking to Éponine, or, more accurately, Éponine’s baby bump, and he let out a low laugh. “What a weird little family.”

Feuilly elbowed him in the ribs for that, but he was smiling fondly at the sight of them. “Yeah, but they’re _our_ weird little family.”

* * *

“So what’s Jellybean’s name gonna be?”

It was a warm day in mid-April, the sun shining down upon them and a light spring breeze nipping at the backs of their necks. Éponine was perched near the corner of the giant picnic blanket Jehan had brought along, legs folded sideways under her and one palm firmly planted against the gingham fabric, while Enjolras sat beside her with Victoire in his lap, the two of them eating grapes out of a big-ass Ziploc bag Éponine had stuffed full of grapes prior to leaving for the picnic. Grantaire was lying on his back on the blanket, his head in Jehan’s lap, while Toby was curled up near Grantaire’s waist, fast asleep, and Combeferre had taken a seat near the edge of the blanket in the middle, legs crossed and an ice cream cone in hand. It was just the six of them and Toby, having an afternoon picnic on a bright spring day in Central Park.

Éponine’s bump had grown considerably over the past three months or so—she was nineteen weeks along now, and Jellybean’s kicks had been absolutely brutal so far, with how fiercely they kicked her insides to pieces. There were a few things she had noticed about this second pregnancy, one of them being how she was carrying Jellybean lower in her abdomen than she did with Victoire, which came with the unfortunate side effect of having to pee more often, much to her annoyance. She had started to feel Jellybean kick a little over a month earlier than she had with Victoire as well, and Enjolras had been able to feel the kicks from outside about two weeks later. Victoire seemed to have grown fond of pressing her hands to Éponine’s bump ever since she found out she could feel her little sibling kicking, sometimes pressing her cheek to her mother’s baby bump in order to do so.

“Ep?” She looked up from her bump upon hearing Grantaire, rather caught off-guard. He raised his eyebrows expectantly. “What are you going to name Jellybean?”

“We’re keeping Jellybean’s gender a surprise like we did with Vicky,” Éponine told him. “Yeah, gender is a social construct, yadda yadda yadda… But that’s not the point.” She looked at Enjolras with an affectionate little smile on her face as his hand moved to rest over hers against the picnic blanket. “Well, we figured we might as well name Jellybean what we were going to name Vicky if she had turned out to be a boy, if Jellybean is a boy.”

“Oh, Alexandre, right?” Combeferre piped up, taking a bite out of his ice cream.

“Yes, Alexandre Hugo,” Enjolras confirmed. “If Jellybean turns out to be a boy, that is.”

“Well, what are you going to name Jellybean if they turn out to be a girl?” Jehan questioned, absent-mindedly stroking Grantaire’s hair.

“Uh…” Éponine trailed off, at a bit of a loss as she tried to recall the five potential names she and Enjolras had narrowed it down to if Jellybean was to turn out to be a girl. “We’re still on the fence about that.”

“What about Jacqueline?” Jehan had actually pulled his phone out and seemed to have pulled up a baby name website, and Éponine had no idea whether she should laugh or scoff at the mere idea of it.

She wrinkled her nose, shaking her head vehemently. “Yeah, no. I dated a girl named Jacqueline back in our freshman year of college, it didn’t end well. Now, Genevieve I’d consider.”

“You dated a girl named Genevieve?” Enjolras asked, curious.

“Yeah, but that’s all in the past now,” Éponine told him, looking back up at her husband and leaning in to kiss his cheek. “Besides, you and I are soulmates, anyone I dated in the past is irrelevant now. It’s always gonna be you, babe.”

“Aww,” Jehan cooed while Grantaire pretended to gag, his head still in the ginger’s lap, and Éponine laughed and turned her attention back to Jehan, who had gone back to looking through the baby names he had looked up online. After a few moments, he suggested, “Roxanne?”

“Put on the red light,” Grantaire absent-mindedly sang out of the blue with an inattentive little grin on his face from his spot in Jehan’s lap. Enjolras winced at the memory of how Courfeyrac had managed to get everyone drunk in the span of three minutes just by singing that very song at his bachelor party.

“Nah.” Éponine shook her head, chuckling softly at the aghast look on Enjolras’ face at the mere idea of possibly naming Jellybean Roxanne.

“Lucille?”

“Like that little rich brat from Junie B. Jones? No, thanks.”

“Thérèse?”

“That’s my mom’s name. So _hell_ no. Absolutely not.”

“What about Karolina?”

“Ooh, like Karolina Dean from _Runaways_! Maybe.”

“Have you even considered _any_ names for a girl at all?” Grantaire asked, incredulous.

Éponine rubbed her bump with one hand, giving Enjolras’ hand a squeeze with the other. “Of course we have, shut up. Nothing starting with V, because we already have Vicky. We narrowed it down to five names, if Jellybean turns out to be a girl.”

“Well, let’s hear them, then,” Combeferre encouraged, gesturing for Éponine to go on, having finished his ice cream cone at this point.

“We could choose from Nancy, Mallory, Juliette, Claire, and Leonie,” Enjolras listed aloud, handing Victoire the Ziploc bag of grapes so she could hold it herself as she stuffed grapes into her mouth.

“Juliette?” That particular name seemed to have garnered Jehan’s attention, blue eyes wide as he looked back and forth between Éponine and Enjolras.

“J-U-L-I-E-T-T-E, Juliette,” Éponine spelled out. “With two T’s and an E. Looks more aesthetically pleasing when written down, at least to me.”

“I really like the sound of the name Claire,” Combeferre remarked, taking a packet of Skittles out of the picnic basket Jehan had brought along. “It’s simple, but pretty.”

“Why don’t you name Jellybean Amélie if they’re a girl?” Grantaire suggested all of a sudden, seeming to have been lost in his thoughts until recently. When Éponine shot him a questioning look, he explained, “Well, you’re going to name them Alexandre if they turn out to be a boy, and that’s Enjy’s middle name. Why not Amélie if Jellybean’s a girl?”

Éponine bit her lip, feeling a dull kick from Jellybean, and looked up at Enjolras, who was focused on Victoire for the time being. “Amélie… Well, the thing is, we’re trying to steer clear of names starting with A after we chose Alexandre,” Éponine admitted, rubbing her bump. “Because what if Jellybean doesn’t turn out to be a girl after all? We might have another kid after Jellybean, and if _they_ turn out to be a girl after we named Jellybean Alexandre, we can’t name them Amélie. We’re trying not to have more than one kid with the same first initial.”

“That’s fair,” Combeferre said, after considering it for a few moments. “A little confusing, but fair, I suppose.”

“Well, I think you should go with Juliette,” Jehan declared.

“Nah, I like Mallory better,” Grantaire contradicted.

“Really?” Enjolras finally redirected his focus to the conversation at hand instead of exchanging a few words in between bites of grapes with Victoire now and then, looking back up. “I do, too.”

Grantaire shot a good-natured grin the blond’s way. “Noice.”

“But I really like the name Claire…” Éponine pursed her lips in contemplation, mulling it over for a few moments, before she suggested, “What about Mallory Claire? Mallory as the first name and Claire as the middle.”

Enjolras nodded at once, liking the ring to it. “I like it.”

Éponine let out a joyous laugh, dimples carving themselves into her cheeks. “Looks like Jellybean’s name is either going to be Alexandre Hugo Enjolras or Mallory Claire Enjolras, then!”

“Did you hear that, Jellybean?” Grantaire called out, slowly lifting himself up to scoot over to Éponine, pressing a hand to her bump once she gave him the green light to do so with a simple hand gesture. “You’re named now! Your future godfather can’t wait to meet you!”

Éponine snorted, shoving Grantaire away. “In your dreams, asshole.”

Grantaire’s hand flew to his heart as he feigned an outraged look. “There are little ears here.”

“We actually have a picture from the last ultrasound with us,” Enjolras interjected, taking out an ultrasound photo from the messenger bag he had brought along and handing it to Combeferre for him to see. Squinting, Combeferre inspected the picture, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he took a closer look at it while Jehan and Grantaire leaned over to look at it as well.

“I can tell you guys Jellybean’s sex, if you want,” Combeferre offered with the tiniest hint of a sly smile on his face as he passed the photograph over to Jehan, who was instantly crowded by Grantaire.

Éponine looked indignant at the mere idea of it. “ _No._ ”

* * *

Éponine wandered about in Ikea, looking at the shelves of candles and string lights and whatnot, hands resting against her bump. She was about thirty weeks along now, having taken her old maternity clothes out of the back of her closet, and Jellybean was kicking up a storm inside her as she took her time in ambling through the living rooms on display, waiting for Enjolras and Victoire to return from their journey to the children’s section of Ikea. It was now early June, and both Éponine and Enjolras had long since been delighted to find out that Victoire could now carry and sustain a comprehensible conversation, her third birthday drawing near.

Éponine was humming softly to Jellybean as she wandered aimlessly through the endless shelves stocked with every different kind of tea light known to man, oblivious to how a girl seemed to have taken notice of her and was starting to take tentative steps towards her. “Miss T?”

Éponine’s head whipped around at the sound of a familiar voice, to be met by the sight of a tall, lanky girl with the fluffiest deep brown curls, a smattering of freckles across her nose, sun-kissed bronze skin, emerald eyes, and a sleeping toddler who seemed about Victoire’s age on her hip. Éponine’s jaw dropped open as she stepped closer.

“Sonia Abel?” she questioned in disbelief.

“The one and only,” Sonia confirmed, letting out a small laugh.

“Holy shit, I never thought I’d run into you here,” Éponine remarked, shaking her head in amazement. “And you’re not my student anymore, Sonia, you can just call me Éponine. Besides, I’m not Miss T anymore.”

She held up her left hand for Sonia to see her wedding band and her engagement ring, chuckling softly at the look of astonishment on Sonia’s face. “Yeah, I got hitched.”

“Well, Miss T—um, Éponine—” Éponine couldn’t blame Sonia for being hesitant about calling her by her first name, especially with how she herself absolutely refused to call Javert Philippe. Sonia’s gaze travelled down to Éponine’s stomach, her bright green eyes widening at the sight of her former teacher’s baby bump. “You’re pregnant?”

“That would seem to be the case, yeah,” Éponine affirmed jokingly, rubbing her bump. “Yeah, I’m pregnant again. Baby number two is on the way.”

“So, you ended up marrying your boyfriend, or did you two split?” It was a perfectly innocent question on Sonia’s part, but Éponine couldn’t help but feel her heart break a little at the mere _thought_ of Enjolras not being such a massive part of her life.

“Yeah, he’s my husband now,” Éponine responded. “He’s somewhere in the kids’ section with Vicky.”

“How is she?” Sonia asked.

“Oh, she’s great!” Éponine replied breezily, tucking some of her hair behind her ear. “Her third birthday is coming up, actually, at the end of this month.” After a few moments, she asked, “How have _you_ been, Sonia?”

“Oh, I’ve been great,” Sonia said, shrugging her shoulders as best as she could with the little boy in her arms. “I have to take night classes since I have to take care of Jacob here—” She gestured to the toddler in question, who was still asleep on her shoulder “—but I’ve been handling it so far. Desirée and her parents help out a lot.”

“So you’re still together, then?” Éponine enquired, rather curious. She knew from Alistair Dupont that his brother Sebastian was still with Maddy Beauregard, even after all these years, but she hadn’t heard from Sonia in almost two years now, not since she graduated.

Sonia nodded. “Yeah, we are. It’s been great, even though we still live with her parents.”

If Éponine had calculated things correctly—which she kind of doubted she did, considering how she had always been awful at math—Sonia would be twenty now. It couldn’t hurt to get some confirmation, so Éponine asked, “You’re twenty now, right?”

Sonia nodded once again. “Yes, I am.”

“Well, don’t be too discouraged if you don’t have your life sorted out by the time you’re twenty-five,” Éponine told her. “TV lied, your twenties are usually pretty shitty most of the time. I got lucky, with my friends and my job, but I know it doesn’t happen to everyone. Don’t be too hard on yourself if you’re not where you want to be right now.”

Sonia mustered a smile. “Thanks, Miss—Éponine. I really needed to hear that today.” Lowering her voice, Sonia admitted, “I’ve been in a bit of a dark place lately, it’s why I’m here today; Desi thought it might have been a good idea to take me and Jacob out to Ikea on an outing, to take my mind off other things.”

“Where is she now?” Éponine asked.

“In the cafeteria,” Sonia replied. “Probably eating Swedish meatballs.”

Éponine snorted. “Well, tell her I said hi.”

“Will do,” Sonia promised. Giving Éponine another smile, she said, “Well, it was nice seeing you… Éponine. Good luck with this second baby.”

“We call them Jellybean,” Éponine gently corrected the younger woman. “Vicky came up with that.”

Sonia’s smile grew wider at that. “Well, good luck with Jellybean, Éponine.”

“It was nice seeing you again, Sonia,” Éponine told her before the girl bid her goodbye and walked away and out of sight, just as Éponine noticed Enjolras and Victoire walking up to her, hand in hand.

“Who were you just talking to?” Enjolras asked as he slipped his other hand into Éponine’s.

Éponine looked up to flash him a brief, secretive smile. “Just an old pal.”

* * *

Everything in Éponine’s life sucked and she was absolutely _miserable_.

For one thing, she had had to deal with contractions for the past several days now, and it didn’t help at all that her bladder kept acting up at the most inopportune times, to the point where she was seriously beginning to think that her bladder control was next to nonexistent. It felt as if her back was trying to _murder_ her and she was even more exhausted than she was back when she was pregnant with Victoire, with how she constantly had to chase the little girl in question around the apartment. She couldn’t imagine what it possibly could be like for Cosette and Marius, who had to chase _two_ even smaller toddlers around their place on a daily basis.

As Éponine just sat there on the sofa, the knit blanket she had grabbed off the arm of one of the armchairs looking as if it was swallowing her, she thought about how it helped that both she and Enjolras were on parental leave, with her due date growing closer. It was now the eighth of August, ten days to her due date, and as she sat there on the couch, doing yet another _Brooklyn Nine-Nine_ rewatch, she couldn’t help but think about how _fast_ the past nine months had flown. Her pregnancy with Jellybean had flown by so much quicker than her pregnancy with Victoire that she could hardly believe it had happened at all.

Enjolras, naturally, had been quick to become excessively protective the moment she went on maternity leave, insisting that she got the proper amount of rest—well, what he deemed the proper amount of rest anyway, which was a good two hours more than what Dr. Bourrienne typically recommended—and ate healthy and took her medication on time, and as a result, she hadn’t been as involved in remodelling what had been Enjolras’ home office into a nursery for Jellybean as much as she wanted to, Enjolras having done most of the heavy-lifting. She knew it came from a place of love, and she loved him all the more for it, but frankly? Having to rest so often without having anything to _do_ besides watch _Brooklyn Nine-Nine_ and _The Good Place_ over and over and over again was beginning to get on her _last fucking nerve_.

It also did not help even a little bit that she hadn’t been able to see her feet (or her vag) in two months, unable to bend over without being unable to stand up. The AC in the apartment was currently on full blast and from what she last heard from Enjolras, he and Victoire were currently in the little girl’s bedroom and looking through old photo albums and scrapbooks. Éponine was wearing nothing but Star Wars maternity pyjama pants and a tank top under her blanket, and her feet were getting cold, so she grabbed some socks she had brought along earlier just in case and bent over to put them on.

Except she couldn’t put them on, with her fucking enormous stomach getting in the way.

Naturally, she burst into tears—the kind that made her whole body shake from the force of her heaving sobs.

This fucking _sucked_. She just wanted to hold Jellybean and be able to put her own socks on whenever the hell she wanted to! Was that so much to ask?

“’Ponine?”

“Mommy?”

Well, fuck.

Éponine attempted to wipe away her tears with the knit blanket as she looked up to see Enjolras and Victoire standing there in the archway of the living room, similar looks of concern on their faces at the sight of Éponine crying right there on the sofa. All it took was one look at her tear-stained face and Enjolras was beside her in an instant, Victoire following soon after, and he asked in concern, “Is everything all right, love? Did your water break? I can call Dr. Bourrienne for you if you want…”

Éponine forcefully shook her head, attempting to wipe away the tear tracks on her cheeks with the blanket. “No, my water didn’t break. Jellybean’s kicking like a maniac, but they’re just fine. I think. I hope.”

Enjolras took her hand in his, rubbing circles into her palm. “Then what’s the matter?”

“I just…” Éponine let out a derisive laugh at the idea of how she had been sobbing moments earlier at the simple fact that she couldn’t put her socks on. “I couldn’t put my socks on, my big-ass belly’s getting in the way of being able to do anything. I’m just so sick and tired of feeling like I’m hauling around a bowling ball all the damn time and _God_ , I just want to be able to hold Jellybean and actually _do_ things with you and Vicky. I just want them out, ’Jolras,” she murmured, eyes welling up with tears once again. “ _God_ , I just want Jellybean out so I can actually _hold_ them and not feel like I’m growing a bowling ball in my womb.”

“Do you think ice cream would help you out? Make you feel less upset?” Enjolras asked, voice still soft, careful not to touch a nerve.

After a few moments of consideration, Éponine slowly nodded. “Yeah, ice cream would be great.”

Enjolras smiled and planted a tender kiss on her forehead. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

He walked off into the kitchen and out of sight as Victoire climbed up onto the sofa, snuggling close to Éponine, who let her under the blanket. “Why you crying, Mommy?” the little girl asked, looking up at Éponine through inquisitive brown eyes.

Éponine chuckled and wiped away a tear. “Mommy’s just really tired right now, Peanut. I’ll be fine.”

Victoire pressed a kiss to her hand before pressing it to Éponine’s heart. “Feel better, Mommy,” Victoire said, solemn as could be.

Éponine couldn’t help but laugh and tear up a little bit (yes, _again_ ) at the gesture, kissing the top of her daughter’s head. “Thank you, Vicky.”

Enjolras soon returned with a bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream for Éponine, taking a seat beside his wife and handing her the bowl and a little spoon. “Here you go.”

Éponine looked up to give him a teary-eyed smile. “I love you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I love you, too,” Enjolras replied, kissing her forehead. “You’re everything to me.”

He and Éponine redirected their attention to the TV screen while Victoire slid off the sofa and busied herself with her Sesame Street plushies, which she arranged all in a row while singing “Part of Your World” under her breath. The episode they’re watching is the Jimmy Jab Games episode, one of Éponine’s all-time favourites, and she can’t help but snort to herself at the sight of Jake with a fake pregnancy bump. It never got old.

Once she had devoured all of her ice cream, she settled for just laying her head on her husband’s shoulder, wincing and grimacing at another contraction, this one more intense than the previous ones she had experienced so far. Gripping her stomach, she worked through the contraction, and all was well for a few more moments, until another debilitating contraction seized her and forced a cry of pain out of her throat.

“’Ponine?” Enjolras sat up, blue eyes wide and clouded over with concern as Éponine took deep breaths, until she felt a popping sensation between her legs.

That now-familiar popping sensation, from right between her legs.

Looking down at her dampened pyjama pants, her eyes went wide. “Oh, _shit_.”

* * *

The past few hours had been a stressful, surreal blur, what with calling Dr. Bourrienne and rushing Éponine to the hospital with Victoire in tow and calling the rest of the Amis as they raced to the hospital, Éponine struggling through contractions all the while. Now, she was in the delivery room—a place she was no longer unfamiliar with—and powering through the last stages of delivery, pushing Jellybean out of her as best as she could while Enjolras stood by her side, holding her hand tight, and the others waited outside, in the waiting room. She had last seen Victoire with Grantaire, so she figured that the three-year-old was in good hands out there.

“ _Fuck!_ ” She stopped pushing momentarily and yelled for a nurse to bring her a cup of water, breathing heavily as her eyes found Enjolras’. He rubbed circles into the palm of her hand in encouragement as a nurse brought Éponine her requested cup of water, which she downed in one gulp.

“You’ve been doing great, ’Ponine,” Enjolras told her, kissing her forehead, now dampened with sweat. “You can do it.”

Éponine let out a breathless laugh. “Damn, we’re actually going to get another kid out of this.”

To that, Enjolras couldn’t find a proper response, so he just fell silent while Éponine gave another push, Dr. Bourrienne looking under the sheet to check how much of the baby was out.

“One more push, Éponine!” she called out encouragingly. “Your baby’s almost out!”

Éponine let out a sigh of relief at the knowledge that this was soon to be over, taking a deep breath before giving another great big push, and soon they were greeted by the sound of a newborn’s erratic, strangled wails. Éponine practically collapsed against the delivery bed, chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath, completely exhausted.

Dr. Bourrienne took a look at the newborn before she looked back up at Éponine and Enjolras with a smile. “It’s a boy.”

Éponine’s hand flew to her mouth as tears welled up in her eyes. “Oh, my God.”

Dr. Bourrienne beckoned Enjolras over, asking, “Would you like to cut the cord?”

Enjolras nodded in agreement almost instantly, never having had the chance to do so with Victoire, and he walked over to where Dr. Bourrienne was, taking the pair of scissors she handed him with slight hesitation before cutting the cord. Dr. Bourrienne soon brought Alexandre over to another side of the room to get all cleaned up while Enjolras walked back over to Éponine, who had her eyes closed as she steadied her breathing, and he nudged her lightly. “Hey.”

Éponine opened her eyes to look at him, her lips curving into a tired little smile. “What’s up?”

“Thank you,” Enjolras told her softly, wiping the sweat off her forehead and pushing some stringy, dampened stray hairs out of her face before he leaned in to kiss her forehead. “Thank you so much.”

Éponine smiled, reaching out for Enjolras’ hand. “You’re welcome, babe.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes at the tired yet smug way in which she said it, murmuring, “I love you so much.”

Éponine let a giant yawn before replying wearily, “I love you so much, too.”

Dr. Bourrienne soon brought little baby Alexandre back over to them, asking, “Would you like to meet your son?”

Éponine propped herself up further on the bed and nodded slowly, reaching out for her son (she had a _son_!) and instantly bursting into tears when Alexandre was placed in her arms, cradling him protectively and gazing down at his little face as Enjolras watched them both with a fond look in his blue eyes.

“He’s perfectly healthy,” a nurse informed them cheerily. “Ten fingers, ten toes, and eight pounds three ounces.”

“Wow,” Enjolras breathed, gazing down at Alexandre’s teeny pink face. “That’s bigger than Victoire was.”

Dr. Bourrienne and the nurses soon left the room once Éponine had delivered the placenta and gotten herself taken care of down there as well as had Éponine and Enjolras fill out the birth certificate (Alexandre Hugo Enjolras, born August 8th at 11:58 AM in New York, New York. Mother: Éponine Amélie Enjolras. Father: Gabriel Alexandre Enjolras), leaving them alone with Alexandre, and they took this time to get a real look at him, Enjolras lightly brushing his fingers against the soft tufts of blond hair on Alexandre’s little head while Éponine was transfixed by the infant’s bright blue eyes.

“He looks just like you, ’Jolras,” Éponine murmured in awe. Alexandre’s skin was just a few shades paler than Victoire’s, and Éponine saw a dimple in his right cheek when he gave a little reflex smile, just that single dimple, undoubtedly inherited from her.

Éponine eventually undid her hospital gown to nurse Alexandre—breastfeeding is practically second nature to her now, considering how she had done it before with Victoire. As Alexandre latched onto her nipple, staring intently up at Éponine, she felt herself melt all over again.

“Hi, Alex,” she cooed, having decided just a moment prior that that was what she was going to be calling him, much like how she called Victoire Vicky most of the time. “I’m your mommy. It’s so nice to finally meet you, Jellybean.”

“You’re going to keep calling him that?” She could practically hear the smile in Enjolras’ voice and looked up, scrunching up her face at him and smiling.

“No reason not to,” she replied, shrugging. “We still call Vicky Peanut, don’t we?”

“That’s fair.” Enjolras sat down at the edge of the bed as he watched Éponine nursing Alexandre, getting a good look at the infant’s eyes—ocean blue, just like his father’s.

“He looks just like you!” Éponine commented brightly upon noticing Enjolras staring at Alexandre’s eyes. “He’s going to look just like his daddy, I know it.”

“And how would you know that, exactly?” Enjolras teased, leaning in for a tender kiss. Éponine laughed softly and was quick to return the kiss, reaching up with one hand to cup his jaw.

Once they’ve broken apart, she told him, “I’ve seen your baby pictures, remember? Alex is a carbon copy of baby ’Jolras. He’s going to look just like you.” Éponine leaned back in bed, letting out a contented sigh. “I’m not going to fuck this up, am I?”

“Not if you keep swearing like that around our son,” Enjolras lightly joked, to which he was met with a punch to the shoulder. After some time, he told her softly, “I’m sure you won’t. You’ve done such an amazing job with Victoire, and I’m sure you’ll be just as great a mother to Alexandre as well.”

Éponine sighed, closing her eyes for a few seconds before opening them once again. “I look like roadkill, don’t I?”

“No, you don’t,” Enjolras contradicted. “You just gave birth for the second time, and you still look perfect.”

Éponine rolled her eyes, though a little smile was playing at her lips. “You’re a sap.”

After a few minutes had passed, just blissful silence between them, Alexandre had finally satisfied himself and Éponine passed him over to Enjolras so he could burp him. Watching them both with an affectionate look in her dark eyes, she could feel her eyelids growing heavier by the moment. She curled up under the blankets, wincing slightly at the soreness between her legs, and just watched Enjolras stand up and walk over to bring a chair over to the side of the bed, never taking his eyes off of Alexandre as he did so, and sat down in it.

“Hey,” Éponine mumbled, barely able to keep her eyes open. “I love you.”

Enjolras looked up and gave his wife a fond smile. “I love you, too.”

Éponine fell fast asleep not long after.

* * *

Enjolras sat on the recliner near the window in the recovery room they had been moved to just half an hour prior, Alexandre sleeping in his bassinet by Éponine’s bed. A couple of hours had passed since Alexandre’s birth and it was around two in the afternoon now; Combeferre had texted him about an hour prior that Victoire had gotten distracted by the children’s play area of the hospital after eating lunch and they were all just waiting for her, Louis, Aimée, and Adrien to tire themselves out before heading upstairs to meet baby Alexandre. Éponine and Enjolras hadn’t sent any photographs of Alexandre through text, wanting him to be a surprise to their friends as he had been to them, so now here they were in a recovery room of the maternity ward, Éponine and Alexandre asleep while Enjolras was beginning to drift off on the recliner, in the midst of texting his father.

He had texted his parents prior to the move to the recovery room, having sent them a picture of Alexandre, to which Antoine responded with nothing but a video of Angela bursting into tears at the sight of her grandson, the video lasting nearly a full minute before Antoine turned the camera onto himself to tell his son that he was proud of him. Enjolras couldn’t help but smile as he texted his father details about their brief stay at the hospital so he and Angela could come visit the next morning.

He had just slipped his phone back into his pocket and was about to completely nod off just when he heard a knock at the door. Grimacing, he got to his feet and walked over to the door, peering through the little pane of glass in the door that served as a little window and seeing Combeferre with Victoire. Attempting to rub the exhaustion out of his eyes with a fist, he opened the door, Victoire beaming instantly upon seeing him.

“Somebody’s here to see you,” Combeferre told Enjolras with a little smile on his face as he passed Victoire over to the blond. “I’ll be in the waiting room with the others, okay? Let us know when you’re allowed to have visitors.”

Enjolras mustered a groggy smile and nodded as he held Victoire in his arms. “Will do.”

Stepping back into the room and closing the door behind him, his eyes found his daughter’s, who opened her mouth to possibly yell something before Enjolras gently shushed her. “We have to be quiet, Peanut,” he whispered to her, gently bouncing her up and down. “Mommy and your baby brother are asleep.”

Victoire’s eyes went wide at the revelation. “Jelly-bean a boy baby?”

Enjolras laughed softly and nodded. “Yes, Jellybean is a boy. Alexandre Hugo Enjolras.” He bit his lip, bracing himself for a possible meltdown; Victoire had been hoping for a little sister. When it didn’t come, much to his relief, he asked her quietly, “Do you want to meet him?”

After some time, Victoire nodded, rather apprehensive as she and Enjolras approached Alexandre’s bassinet by Éponine’s bed, looking down at him. Alexandre was fast asleep, his little mouth slightly agape and his blue eyes shut, and Enjolras couldn’t quite read the look on Victoire’s face as she stared down at him, teeth digging into her bottom lip. “That’s your little brother, Peanut.”

After a few moments of silence, Victoire asked tentatively, “Will he play Star Wars with me?”

Enjolras smiled and nodded. “Of course he will,” he assured her, lightly bouncing her up and down in his arms. He and Éponine had only let Victoire watch episodes four and five so far, thinking to introduce her to episode six when she was a little older, eight or so, and then to go from there. “And you can teach him all about the Jedi, and the Resistance and what they do to fight the Empire.”

Victoire considered this for a moment before nodding. “Okay. But I get to be Artoo.”

“Deal.” He pressed a kiss to Victoire’s cheek, making her giggle, and he smiled. “We should go as Star Wars characters for Halloween, what do you think?”

Victoire nodded happily. “Mommy can be Princess Leia,” she said. “’Cause Leia’s smart, just like Mommy.”

Enjolras couldn’t help but smile widely at Victoire’s words, making a mental note to inform Éponine of Victoire’s words later, when she was awake. “Does that make me Han Solo, then? Because your mom is more like Han than I am.”

Victoire vehemently shook her head. “No, Mommy is Leia and you Han, Daddy.”

Enjolras laughed to himself, thinking about how many of the Amis would beg to disagree; Éponine was a million times more Han than Enjolras could ever be, although he could definitely see how Victoire could see her as Leia—smart, strong, independent, and didn’t take shit from anybody. Maybe the role of Leia suited her after all, but he still didn’t think he was anything like Han Solo. Well, if it would satisfy Victoire, then he would just roll with it.

“Who would Alexandre be, then?” Enjolras asked softly, the two of them looking back down at the sleeping newborn in question.

Victoire pondered this for a few moments before declaring solemnly, “Chewie.” After a pause, she added, “And Unca R can be Luke.”

Enjolras laughed and pressed his lips to Victoire’s little cheek once more. “Sure thing, Peanut.”

They took a good long look at baby Alexandre for a few moments more before he went over to sit down on the recliner with Victoire in his lap, rocking back and forth slightly as they watched Éponine sleeping soundly. He was singing softly to Victoire as she snuggled up in his arms, the two of them rocking back and forth, and he had nearly fallen asleep by the time he heard Alexandre begin to cry loudly, alerting him that his son was awake. He was just about to get up to go get Alexandre before Victoire stopped him from doing so, clinging to him tightly and murmuring, “No, Daddy.”

“Alexandre needs Daddy too, Victoire,” Enjolras told her as gently as he could, keeping his tone level and calm. “I’ll bring him back over here, and you can still sit with me. I’m not going to ignore you, Peanut, I just need to get Alexandre and then I’ll be right back. How does that sound?”

Victoire pouted, eyes rather downcast, but eventually she let Enjolras gently pry her off so he could get up and go over to pick Alexandre up out of his bassinet, gently shushing him and rocking him back and forth in his arms. Alexandre didn’t stop crying, although his wails became more erratic as Enjolras brought him back to the recliner; all it took was five seconds after he sat back down and Victoire was in his lap once again, looking down at baby Alexandre. She reached out to touch his rosy cheeks, fascinated by the blue of her baby brother’s eyes, and Enjolras smiled at the look of wonder he saw so often on children’s faces as Victoire took a proper look at Alexandre, up close. Enjolras and Victoire almost didn’t notice how Éponine had woken up until she let out a little giggle.

Enjolras looked up at the sound of his wife’s soft laugh, smiling at the sight of Éponine sitting up in bed. “Good morning.”

“It’s afternoon,” Éponine replied, but not until after she stole a glance at the wall clock. “Give Alex to me, I think he wants to feed.” She raised an eyebrow knowingly at the way Victoire was clinging to Enjolras, adding teasingly, “And I think a certain little peanut wants you all to herself right now.”

As if to prove her mother’s point, Victoire’s grip on Enjolras grew even tighter, and he laughed softly before prying her off to get up and go over to hand Alexandre to Éponine, who instantly stopped crying the moment he began to feed. Enjolras scooped Victoire up in his arms and sat down at the edge of the bed with her in his lap, watching as Éponine nursed Alexandre, softly caressing his cheek.

“Hey, Vicky!” Éponine gestured for Victoire to crawl over to her, telling Enjolras to take off her shoes first before she could scramble over to sit beside her mother. Victoire stared down at Alexandre curiously, her brown eyes meeting her brother’s blue, and she reached out to tentatively touch his rosy cheek, fascinated by how soft his skin was. Éponine smiled as she watched her daughter look Alexandre up and down, leaning forward to kiss the top of Victoire’s head before she returned her gaze to Alexandre.

“This is your big sister, Alex,” she told the infant brightly as Victoire leaned in closer to look at him. “This is Vicky.”

Enjolras smiled at the sight—his wife, their daughter, and their son, all in one place. “Do you want the others to start coming in when you’re done nursing him?”

“Mhmm,” Éponine hummed in confirmation. “Where are they?”

“In the waiting room,” Enjolras told her.

“When I’m done, they can come.” Éponine paused for a few moments, scrunching up her face as she thought her words over before saying, “That sounded weirdly sexual.”

Blood rushed into Enjolras’ cheeks at Éponine’s candid comment and he shook his head, covering his mouth with his hand to stifle a little grin. “I’ll be sure to tell them.”

Silence fell upon the room once again, and it was just the four of them—mother, father, daughter, and son. It was tranquil, perfect, with Victoire nodding off on Éponine’s shoulder as Alexandre fell asleep in the midst of nursing, and as Enjolras’ eyes found Éponine’s, he gave her a reassuring smile at the shadow of doubt lingering on her face. They were going to be just fine. He just knew it.

* * *

The harsh August sun beat down upon them as Enjolras made sure for the third time that Alexandre was perfectly secure in Victoire’s old infant car seat while Éponine went about strapping Victoire into her car seat, humming lightly to herself. About two days had passed since Alexandre’s birth and they had finally been given the green light to check out of the hospital, having had Grantaire and Jehan come by to take gifts and flowers home earlier so things wouldn’t be so hectic for Éponine and Enjolras. Once Victoire was happily secure in her car seat, clutching her Elmo doll, Éponine walked around the car to stand beside Enjolras as he triple checked whether or not Alexandre’s seatbelt was on properly.

“Jesus Christ, how long have you been doing this for?” Éponine questioned incredulously as Enjolras stepped back, cocking his head while searching for anything he might have done wrong.

“I just don’t want him to fall out,” Enjolras murmured, his teeth digging into his bottom lip.

“He won’t,” Éponine assured her husband with faux-exasperation, rolling her eyes in amusement before stepping up to check one final time that Alexandre was absolutely secure in his car seat. The two-day-old infant was wide awake, big blue eyes blinking up at Éponine and his little green pacifier in his mouth, clutching the Piglet doll Gavroche had found while doing some spring cleaning and proceeded to clean up a little bit before giving it to his nephew as a present. Éponine smiled as Alexandre stared up intently at her, sucking on his pacifier, and she leaned in to kiss his forehead.

“Ready to see your new home, Jellybean?” Éponine asked brightly, very gently smoothing down the tufts of blond hair on his little head with her hand. He merely stared back at her through big, unblinking blue eyes, and she let out a laugh when he sneezed, his pacifier falling out. She was quick to pick it up and place it in his mouth again before he could start wailing, something she had gotten good at back when Victoire was less than a year old and still so attached to her pacifier. Alexandre responded with a few blinks, which Éponine deemed satisfactory enough, and she pressed one more kiss to her son’s forehead before walking around the car once again to claim shotgun as Enjolras climbed into the driver’s seat.

The car was soon driving at a steady pace down the streets of Manhattan, on their way back to the Upper East Side, and Éponine could hear how Victoire was having an animated one-sided conversation with Alexandre about Winnie the Pooh and Piglet and the rest of the gang after having noticed Alexandre’s little Piglet plushie, describing each character in excruciating detail—as much as she could remember, anyway—to her baby brother. Éponine glanced sideways and shared a little knowing look with Enjolras, resisting the urge to laugh out loud at how Victoire just wouldn’t stop chattering away about the Hundred Acre Wood.

Éponine reached over to take Enjolras’ hand, winding their fingers tightly together and giving his hand a squeeze. They were at a stoplight, waiting for the light to turn green in order to continue weaving through late morning traffic; all Éponine wanted to do was go home and take a nice long nap. That was if she managed to get Victoire and Alexandre to bed first.

“We’re not going to screw this up, are we?” Once again, Éponine was voicing concern over her parenting abilities, still not quite convinced that she was being the best mother she could possibly be despite how much Enjolras and the rest of the Amis told her so.

“Of course we aren’t, ’Ponine,” Enjolras replied instantly, squeezing her hand as he drove. “We’ll do the best we possibly can.”

“But what we _think_ what’s best might not actually _be_ what’s best for them,” Éponine mumbled, vaguely recalling a conversation she had had with Azelma at her and Enjolras’ impromptu engagement party two years ago, about how they were all just doing their best. “I don’t want Vicky and Alex to hate me like I hate my own parents.”

“They won’t hate you,” Enjolras told her gently, giving her hand another squeeze. “I promise. You’re such an amazing mom, ’Ponine—you’ve done so great with Victoire so far. You pay attention to her, you listen to her, you always make sure she’s happy and you’re so patient whenever she makes a mistake… you actually treat her as a person, not like how most people treat their kids. You aren’t a helicopter parent. You’re going to be fine, love.”

Éponine went silent for a few moments before she murmured, “We’re only twenty-seven, though. Twenty-seven, and we already have two kids. Most people don’t even _think_ about having kids at our age.”

“Well, we haven’t had the most conventional relationship,” Enjolras reminded her, managing to keep his tone light. “We did everything completely out of order and a lot earlier than most other people would, but we turned out fine, didn’t we? We’ll be just fine, ’Ponine. I’ve got you.”

Éponine smiled and looked up, meeting Enjolras’ eyes for a few seconds as he gave her an encouraging little smile before looking back at the road ahead. She looked down at their intertwined hands, bringing his hand to her lips to press a few tender kisses to his knuckles, not failing to pick up on how he tensed up for a millisecond before relaxing. “I love you,” she mumbled against his knuckles, pressing a long, lingering kiss to the back of his hand.

Enjolras smiled even more at his wife’s words, responding softly, “I love you, too.”

It took another hour and forty-five minutes for them to reach home, what with all the traffic they had gotten stuck in, and Alexandre had slept for about an hour and ten minutes before he woke up and started wailing, which Éponine quickly managed to get under control with a bottle of formula. Victoire was out like a light, seeming to have decided to take her daily nap early after talking nonstop about how she was so excited to go back home after their stay in the “hostipal”, making Éponine giggle each time the little girl mispronounced the word hospital.

“So what did you and Vicky talk about while I was asleep, when she first came to see us?” Éponine asked softly once they were just a couple of blocks away from their apartment, glancing sideways at Enjolras.

“Star Wars,” Enjolras replied, and Éponine could hear the fond smile in his voice as he said it. “She was worried that Alexandre wouldn’t want to play Star Wars with her, so I told her he would. We talked a bit about going as Star Wars characters for Halloween.” Enjolras brought Éponine’s hand up to his lips to kiss it before saying, “She said that you can go as Leia, because Leia’s smart, just like you.”

“Aww, she said that?” Éponine stole a glance behind, looking at Victoire, fast asleep in her car seat.

“Yes, she did,” Enjolras affirmed. “And she said that I’m Han.”

Éponine snorted wryly at that, telling him, “Pretty boy, I am more Han Solo than you ever will be.”

“I know,” Enjolras said, rolling his eyes in amusement at his wife’s words, “but Victoire insisted.”

Éponine laughed, leaning back in her seat and asking, “Then who would she be?”

“Artoo,” Enjolras responded swiftly. “And she said that Alexandre could be Chewie.”

Éponine hummed to herself, looking out the car window as she asked absent-mindedly, “D’you think R would go as Luke with us?”

Enjolras choked on a laugh, coughing. “Funny, Victoire thought the same thing.”

“She’s following in my footsteps.” Éponine looked behind once again, finding that Alexandre was staring intently at her through his ocean blue eyes, exactly like Enjolras’, and she let go of Enjolras’ hand to reach behind and pat Alexandre’s thigh, saying happily, “We’re almost home, Alex! Ready to see your new room?”

“As if he’s ever going to sleep in there,” Enjolras mumbled, mostly to himself. Éponine pummelled him in the shoulder for that and he raised a defensive hand, saying, “What? You had separation anxiety with Victoire for, what, eight months?”

“Shut up.” Éponine looked back at Alexandre, who was still sucking on his pacifier, staring straight at Éponine. She couldn’t help but coo over how _cute_ Alexandre was, with his rosy, chubby cheeks and his brilliant blue eyes, along with that little dimple in his right cheek, one of the few, few traits he had inherited from her. Her gaze travelled to Victoire, who seemed to be on the verge of waking up now, long lashes fluttering, and she looked back ahead at the road, remarking, “We’ve got some pretty cute kids, don’t we?”

“Well, they’ve got a cute mom,” Enjolras replied candidly, a slight grin playing at his lips.

“And a hot-ass dad,” Éponine was quick to respond in an attempt to distract from how she grew flustered at her husband’s words, looking up to see Enjolras’ reaction and smirking at how his cheeks instantly flamed red.

“Don’t swear around Victoire and Alexandre, ’Ponine,” he chided her quietly, cheeks burning.

They were soon coming to a stop in front of their townhouse apartment, Enjolras parking by the pavement before Éponine hopped out of the car, going to take Alexandre out of his car seat while Enjolras went over to Victoire’s side to do the same with her. “Hello, my little Jellybean,” Éponine cooed softly, giggling at how Alexandre gurgled and flailed his arms about, his pacifier falling out of his mouth. She swiftly picked it up and placed it in his mouth once more before she carefully undid his seatbelt, swaddling him in a monogrammed blanket from Combeferre and gently lifting him out of his car seat. “Did you have a good nap, baby?”

Alexandre just blinked and Éponine laughed softly, giving him a finger to hold onto and gently bouncing him up and down as Enjolras walked up to them, the suitcase they had brought along to the hospital in hand and Victoire clinging to his back, chubby little arms loose around his neck. “Should we go in?” Éponine asked, looking up at Enjolras expectantly while bouncing Alexandre up and down just slightly in her arms. “We can bring the car seats inside later, once Vicky and Alex are inside.”

“Well, let’s go inside, then.” Enjolras watched as Éponine walked up the concrete steps to the front door, following soon after and taking the key out of his pocket only to find that the door was already unlocked.

Éponine furrowed her brow quizzically as Enjolras turned the doorknob, pushing the door forward slightly. “Huh. That’s weird.”

Pushing the door open, Éponine stepped past the threshold of the apartment with Alexandre secure in her arms to be met with the sight of Les Amis standing in the living room, gold and silver balloons spelling out “welcome home” in big capital letters pasted against the wall, and when Enjolras and Victoire came in, they all grinned at the sight of the little family of four.

“What is this?” Éponine asked in amazement, absolutely breathless as her gaze travelled between everyone in the room—there were Azelma and Gavroche and Courfeyrac in one corner with little Louis, Marius and Cosette with Aimée and Adrien nearby, and then there were Grantaire, Jehan, and Toby on the loveseat while Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta stood behind them, Combeferre sitting down in an armchair and Feuilly and Bahorel standing up with glasses of what looked like punch in hand.

“A homecoming party,” Grantaire replied matter-of-factly.

Joly did little jazz hands, evoking a snort of mirth from Musichetta. “Surprise!”

Éponine laughed out loud and looked down at Alexandre; the infant still had a firm grip on her pointer finger, staring up at her through wide blue eyes, and she leaned down to press an affectionate kiss to her son’s forehead, whispering softly, “Welcome home, Alexandre.”


	2. a thousand miles seems pretty far, but they've got planes and trains and cars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there's some good ol' father/daughter bonding between a twenty-five-year-old barely-adult and a fussy little ten-month-old peanut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **rated T, for some mild swearing here and there (so nothing really out of the ordinary), otherwise it would be G**
> 
> this is pointless. i just wanted an excuse to write some gross dad!jolras fluff, be sure to schedule an appointment with your dentist prior to reading this
> 
> this one's set ten months after vicky's born (just a little over two months before The Proposal™)

* * *

“How are things going over there?” Enjolras asked the moment Éponine’s grainy image filled the screen, eliciting a cry of delight from Victoire, who was seated in his lap.

 _“Swimmingly,”_ Éponine responded, a bright dimpled smile on her face. _“There’s been a couple of bumps along the way, so far—Sebastian’s already been caught trying to sneak into Maddy and Clarissa Beaumont’s hotel room—but it’s been a breeze, for the most part.”_

“Mamamamamamamamama!” Victoire babbled at the computer screen, trying to reach out to touch it while Enjolras restrained her from doing so.

 _“Mommy misses you too, Peanut,”_ Éponine replied, biting her lip and, though she still managed to keep a smile on her face, seeming to blink back tears; Enjolras couldn’t quite tell, Éponine’s face was rather grainy from the Skype call.

Just a day prior, Éponine had left with her senior art class and a couple of other teachers chaperoning for the art class’s annual end-of-the-year trip to the Art Institute of Chicago, which was where she, her students, and fellow teachers were going to be for the next six days or so. Enjolras had proceeded to take a week off from work to stay at home and care for Victoire, but both father and daughter were quickly finding that Éponine’s absence was absolutely unbearable.

 _“Are you sure everything’s all right over there?”_ Éponine asked anxiously, biting her lip.

“’Ponine, I promise I’ve got everything under control,” Enjolras reassured his girlfriend, wishing he could reach through the screen to take her hand and squeeze it, should she need any further reassurance. He gently bounced Victoire up and down in his lap, her wispy golden hair bouncing along with her. “Right, Peanut?”

Victoire laughed, dimples carved into her chubby cheeks, and clapped her hands together obediently, making Enjolras smile. “See? You’ve got nothing to worry about, my love. We’re both doing just fine.” After a pause, he added, “We really miss you, though. Victoire’s been crying a lot in the past few days every time she remembers you aren’t there.”

Éponine jutted out her bottom lip at the screen, eyebrows knit as her dark eyes seemed to grow glassy. _“I miss you two so much,”_ she told him. _“So, so much.”_

“We do too,” Enjolras replied. He leaned around Victoire a little bit, pointing at the computer screen and saying in that bright little voice reserved specifically for her, “Is that Mommy, Victoire?”

“Mamamamamama!” Victoire cried once again, trying to surge forward in her attempt to grab the computer screen and plant a kiss on Éponine’s image as Enjolras gently kept her from doing so, holding her in place. Enjolras sighed and kissed the top of Victoire’s head.

“Same here, Peanut.”

Éponine’s bottom lip was quivering and she really looked like she might cry, declaring, _“I’m catching the next flight back first thing tomorrow.”_

“And leave those kids you love so dearly alone with two other teachers who probably don’t care about them as much as you do?” To that, Enjolras raised his eyebrows, awaiting Éponine’s answer.

After a few moments of silence, Éponine caved in and admitted defeat, replying, _“Ugh, you’re right. I miss you both so much, though!”_ She blew a kiss to Victoire, who giggled and attempted to clumsily return them, drawing a smile from her mother through the screen.

There were a few more moments of quiet between them, and Enjolras desperately wished she could be here with him and Victoire instead of a thousand miles away in Chicago. “What time is it over there?”

 _“Eight o’clock,”_ Éponine replied. After realising how this meant that it was currently nine o’clock in New York, she asked, _“Isn’t Vicky supposed to be in bed now?”_

“She wouldn’t sleep,” Enjolras admitted, rather sheepish. “I figured I might as well bring her along to talk to you. She’ll probably fall asleep soon.”

 _“’Jolras, promise me she’ll sleep in her own room tonight,”_ Éponine said, biting her lip once again. _“She can’t always be sleeping in our bed.”_

“What makes you think she isn’t sleeping in her own bedroom?” Enjolras rested his cheek against Victoire’s, making the infant giggle. He smiled; his daughter’s laugh was one of the absolute best sounds in the world.

Éponine was unable to keep herself from grinning at the sight, no matter how hard she tried to resist the urge. _“Gabriel Enjolras,”_ she said, her voice firm. A little warning.

“She might have slept in our bed with me last night,” Enjolras amended, his cheeks flushing pink. “But our bed is enormous without you there.”

Éponine pursed her lips, frowning. _“’Jolras, what about all that work we—but let’s be real, mostly you—put towards Vicky’s nursery? We—again, mostly you, since I was hella pregnant with her at that point—spent so much time on it, and she’s barely been sleeping there.”_

“That is in no way my fault,” Enjolras retorted, growing slightly defensive. “Might I remind you that _you_ were the one with separation anxiety for eight months?”

Éponine rolled her eyes, though the faintest trace of a grin was playing at her lips. _“Yeah, well, it’s been a little over two months since I put a stop to that, having her sleep in her own room is good for her. She’s ten months old now, she needs to get used to sleeping in her own room.”_

Enjolras pretended to think long and hard before he replied, “I’ll think it through.”

Éponine rolled her eyes again, biting her lip to keep her grin from growing too wide. _“You’re ridiculous. Anyway, a lot’s happened today and I’m really tired and we have to get up early tomorrow, to take a tour of the city. Talk to you tomorrow night?”_

“We’ll be here,” Enjolras promised, bouncing Victoire up and down in his lap.

Éponine blew Victoire a kiss, the infant once again mimicking her mother’s actions, and in that moment, Enjolras couldn’t help but think about how much Victoire took after Éponine. _“I love you so, so much. I miss you so much.”_

“I love you, too,” Enjolras said.

 _“I was talking to Vicky,”_ Éponine deadpanned, moments before a shit-eating grin made its way onto her face.

“Jesus, ’Ponine, the things you do…” Enjolras rolled his eyes, shaking his head and laughing.

 _“Hey, don’t swear around our kid,”_ Éponine reprimanded overly sternly, though Enjolras could hear the grin in her voice. _“I love you too, idiot. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. I love you both.”_

“We love you, too.” Enjolras waved at the computer screen, looking down at Victoire. “Can you wave bye-bye to Mommy?”

Victoire opened and closed her chubby little starfish hand repeatedly in her own way of waving goodbye to Éponine, crying out, “Mamamamamamamama!”

Éponine giggled, and soon the screen went black, which didn’t seem to please Victoire at all. Now her games with Mommy were over; she reached forward and smacked the computer screen, as if it would bring Éponine back. Her chin started wobbling, tears welling up in her dark eyes.

“Mamamama?” She smacked the computer screen again, her bottom lip quivering. “Mamamamamama!”

Enjolras lifted her up and turned her around to face him, murmuring to her, “No more Mommy tonight, Peanut.”

That was when Victoire began to sob, fat tears rolling down her chubby cheeks as she leaned forward and crashed against Enjolras’ chest, pounding at it with little fists. Enjolras bounced her up and down in his best attempt to calm her down, shushing her gently while she pounded at his chest with little fists, her miserable wails breaking Enjolras’ heart.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he whispered, bouncing her up and down and letting her collapse against him, kissing the top of her head. “Mommy’s going to be home in a few days, I promise. Daddy’s not so bad, right?”

He placed a soothing hand on Victoire’s back, lifting her up to gently bounce her up and down in his arms, speaking to her in tender, comforting tones until her tears ceased. Enjolras walked over to the nightstand to grab some tissues, wiping Victoire’s face dry before he pulled her away from his chest, leaning in to press kisses to both her chubby cheeks, drawing a little dimpled teary-eyed smile from the ten-month-old. He lifted her higher and planted a raspberry kiss on her stomach, making her squeal with laughter, which elicit a bright crinkly-eyed smile from Enjolras as he brought Victoire back to his chest, holding her tight.

He gently rocked her in his arms until her eyelids began to droop, which was when he whispered, “Is it bedtime, Victoire?”

She gave Enjolras a sleepy smile in return, a smile identical to his, and he felt like his heart could burst at the sight of two bottom teeth when Victoire smiled drowsily at him before tipping forward to plant an open-mouthed kiss on the tip of his nose. Enjolras sighed and brushed a kiss against the top of her head, along her wispy golden hair, and breathing in her scent, murmuring, “I’ll take that as a yes, then.”

Victoire let out a yawn before sticking her thumb in her mouth as Enjolras walked out of the room, making his way down the hall to Victoire’s nursery before stopping in his tracks once he was standing in front of the door. He stole a glance at Victoire again, biting his lip. “What your mother doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” he mumbled, turning around and heading back to his and Éponine’s room.

Once inside, he set Victoire down on the bed, making a little nest of pillows for her before lying down beside her to gaze down at the infant, whose eyes were still open wide as she stared up at him, sucking her thumb. “Hi, Victoire,” he whispered, smiling when she sneezed and giggled, limbs flailing as she did so. “Are you sleepy?”

She took her thumb out of her mouth and reached up towards Enjolras. “Dadadadadada!”

He let out a low laugh and leaned in to kiss her forehead, Victoire grabbing one of his golden curls as he did so, and he gently managed to loosen her grip long enough to go back to lying down beside her, giving her his pointer finger to hold on to. “You miss Mommy, don’t you?”

His voice was low, soothing, and Victoire simply babbled in reply, “Mamama?”

Enjolras chuckled, letting out a long-winded sigh. “Yeah, I miss her too, Peanut.”

He let a comfortable silence fall between them once again, Victoire growing drowsier and drowsier as the minutes ticked by, and Enjolras couldn’t help but think about the engagement ring he had gone out and bought soon after Éponine’s twenty-fifth birthday last month as he gazed down at Victoire, seeing so much of his beloved in their daughter. She seemed to be fighting to keep her eyes open, eyelids growing heavier by the moment, and he gently shook her little hand, the infant still having a firm grip on his finger.

Letting out a yawn, Enjolras murmured, “I’m going to ask your mommy to marry me, Victoire. What do you think?”

He was met only with the sound of Victoire’s steady breathing, and he chuckled once again as he watched her finally falling asleep, feeling like his heart could burst at the sight. “You’re an angel, you know that?” he whispered to her. “Just like your mother. She and I love you so much, Peanut.”

He sighed, just gazing at Victoire and biting his lip at the way he was overcome with emotion, just lying there and watching his daughter sleep. It was still so surreal to him—he and Éponine actually had a _daughter_ , what had initially been a drunken one-night stand on the night of his birthday had resulted in the best thing that had ever happened to them, and God, she was perfect, so utterly perfect. Their little Peanut. Their little Victoire.

He noticed his phone screen lighting up on the nightstand and reached over with his free hand to grab it. As he had anticipated, it was a text from Éponine.

**my rose [red heart emoji]: is she asleep?? is she in her room???**

Biting his lip to restrain himself from grinning, he typed in a response. **Yes and yes.**

A pause, then those three dots showed up in grey at the bottom of the screen.

**my rose [red heart emoji]: you’re lying aren’t you**

Enjolras bit the insides of his cheeks to keep himself from laughing, trying not to wake Victoire as he relented and texted back, **Yes.**

After a few moments, he added, **I wasn’t lying about her sleeping, though.**

Carefully turning his phone in Victoire’s direction, he took a picture of her in her little pillow nest, the infant still maintaining a surprisingly firm grip on his pointer finger. He sent the picture to Éponine, typing, **How can I say no to this little peanut?**

Éponine responded with a string of emojis, a colourful array of hearts.

**my rose [red heart emoji]: I MISS HER SO FUCKING MUCH!!!!!!!!!!!!!**

Enjolras felt a corner of his mouth tug upwards in a crooked smile as he texted back, **She misses you too. Terribly. She started crying after you hung up.**

To that, Éponine responded with a screen full of sobbing emojis and a string of broken hearts.

**my rose [red heart emoji]: i miss you two so much i want to see you again**

Enjolras bit his lip and sighed, replying, **Hey, you’ll only be there for six more days, right? We’ll pick you up at the airport, ’Ponine, when you come back.**

He watched the three little dots in the bottom left corner in anticipation, awaiting Éponine’s reply.

**my rose [red heart emoji]: i’ll be expecting you then :)**

Enjolras leaned back against the pillow he had left for himself, typing, **Why are you still up? I thought you had said you wanted to go back to bed.**

Once again, he found himself watching the three dots in the bottom left corner, biting his lip as he waited for what Éponine had to say.

 **my rose [red heart emoji]: couldn’t sleep i’ve been thinking about you and vicky. particularly you. fuck, i miss you.** A pause. **been taking care of myself while thinking about you if you know what i mean…………** Her words were followed by a string of winky faces and smirk emojis, and Enjolras could just _feel_ the blood rush into his cheeks at the mere _thought_ of what Éponine was heavily implying she was currently doing.

 **Jesus Christ, ’Ponine, are you serious?** He was certain his entire face was beet red at Éponine’s implicative words, biting his lip as he desperately fought back the mental image it had put in his mind, the main reason being that Victoire was in the room.

**my rose [red heart emoji]: why the fuck would i joke about that? dead serious, pretty boy.**

Well. When Éponine bothered to punctuate a text, that was a dead giveaway that she was being completely serious.

Sighing in mild exasperation and slight amusement at her candidness, Enjolras typed in, **I’d rather you not give me the details. I’m not going to do unspeakable things with Victoire here in our bed with me.**

**my rose [red heart emoji]: see this is why i told you to let her sleep in her own room so you can think of me and get yourself off in peace**

Enjolras’ cheeks burned even more at how fucking _blunt_ Éponine was being as he texted back, **I thought it was because you wanted her to get used to sleeping on her own.**

**my rose [red heart emoji]: yeah that too**

Enjolras snorted, responding, **You’re impossible.**

He could just picture Éponine smirking at her phone a thousand miles away in Chicago.

**my rose [red heart emoji]: thanks babe i try ;)**

He bit the insides of his cheeks to keep himself from laughing again, typing, **’Ponine, seriously, I love you, but please stop.**

**my rose [red heart emoji]: okay fine i’ll stop i’ll just go back to doing what i was doing. good night, i love you.**

Enjolras smiled at the kissy face emojis that followed, texting back, **I love you, too.** He took another picture of Victoire. **So does she.**

He put his phone back on the nightstand and settled back into bed, his finger still firmly in Victoire’s grasp as he lost himself to a deep sleep.

* * *

Sunlight was streaming in through the cracks in the curtains by the time Enjolras felt a little hand poking and prodding at him, a pair of lips planting slobbering wet kisses on his face, and he slowly, sleepily opened his eyes to find Victoire already fully awake, poking at him insistently and pressing wet kisses all over his face, whichever parts of his face she happened to be able to reach. His lips curving into a little smile, he murmured, “Good morning, Peanut.”

“Dadadadada!” Victoire babbled in response, attempting to climb on top of Enjolras and laughing merrily. He sat up in bed, leaning back against the headboard and lifting Victoire up and into his lap, bouncing her up and down. A glance at the alarm clock informed him that it was almost ten o’clock. Huh. Victoire let him sleep in for once.

“What are we doing today, Victoire?” Enjolras asked, lifting her up and turning her around to face him. “Do you want to go eat breakfast?”

She laughed and clapped her hands together in response before placing her hands on Enjolras’ cheeks and tipping forward to kiss the tip of his nose, evoking a soft laugh from him. “I suppose that’s a yes, then.”

He moved to slide off the bed, Victoire in his arms, and he walked over to the door as Victoire wrapped her chubby little arms around his neck, her head resting on his shoulder. The apartment felt strange without Éponine there—bigger and emptier, somehow. He made his way into the kitchen, Victoire in tow, humming all the while, and he murmured to Victoire, “Daddy’s going to make you some milk, what do you think about that?”

Victoire clapped her hands together again and let out a squeal of laughter, which Enjolras took as a yes, and he couldn’t resist a grin as he leaned in to kiss the little girl’s cheek before going about to put together a bottle of formula for her. Once he had finished doing so, he went into the living room to go sit down on the sofa, handing the bottle of formula to Victoire and cradling her in his arms as she gulped it all down, her brown eyes fixed on Enjolras’ blue. He hummed a wordless tune as he gently rocked Victoire back and forth, watching as she gulped down her milk, blinking up at him through big brown eyes. Once she had finished the last of her milk, he set aside the bottle on the coffee table before burping her and getting to his feet once again.

“What do you think of some breakfast?” Enjolras asked Victoire brightly, bouncing her up and down. She giggled and clapped her hands together, babbling something incomprehensible, as Enjolras walked back into the kitchen to grab some applesauce out of the refrigerator before Victoire smacked at his chest just as he was about to take out the applesauce. Turning his head to look at Victoire, he asked, “What is it, Peanut?”

Victoire babbled a string of incomprehensible baby talk Enjolras couldn’t quite understand before pointing empathically at one of the higher shelves, pointing at that sugary cereal Éponine liked and seeming to ask if she could have some.

“No, baby,” Enjolras chided gently, looking back into the fridge at the leftover applesauce from yesterday. “You can’t eat that yet.”

Victoire’s babbling was quick to turn insistent, almost angry, as she pointed obstinately at the cereal and pounded at Enjolras’ chest with her little fist. Sighing, Enjolras rubbed his temple with his free hand and repeated patiently, “You can’t eat things like that yet, Victoire. That’s for another time.” He finally took the applesauce out of the fridge and placed it on the countertop, saying, “Now, what about some applesauce?”

It took another fifteen minutes of convincing Victoire to go for the applesauce instead, but much to Enjolras’ immense relief, she didn’t end up wailing about wanting to eat Éponine’s sugary cereal—he didn’t think he would have been able to handle that, he was always such a pushover whenever she cried, how could he say no to that face?—instead eventually giving in as Enjolras went over to the kitchen table and placed Victoire in her high chair, sitting down by her and spooning the applesauce into her mouth once he had pinned on her bib. He had thought he had it all under control as Victoire sat there for a few moments, letting the applesauce sit in her mouth for a little more than a few seconds before spitting it back out into Enjolras’ face.

Victoire started clapping her hands together as she burst into a fit of giggles at the look on Enjolras’ face, his face all scrunched up and his eyes screwed shut while he let the applesauce slide down his face and into his lap, lips pressed tightly together. “I probably should have expected that,” he mumbled, grabbing a napkin to wipe the applesauce off his face.

Deciding to try again, he spooned some applesauce into Victoire’s mouth once more, waiting with bated breath to see if she would spit it back out in his face again. He breathed a sigh of relief when she finally swallowed the applesauce, giving him a little two-toothed grin that made him melt, and he blew raspberries at her, making her erupt in a fit of giggles once again, clapping her hands together and squealing, “Dadadadadada!”

He managed to feed her the rest of her applesauce with no complications, Victoire behaving herself for once as he spooned applesauce into her mouth, although quite a bit of that applesauce made it onto Enjolras’ clothes, but he couldn’t just leave Victoire sitting there while he went to change, who the hell knew what could happen? Taking off her bib, he very carefully picked her up out of her high chair and carried her back to his and Éponine’s bedroom, where he set her down on the bed and built a little wall of pillows to keep her from falling off the edge should she happen to start crawling about, though he didn’t know how effective that’d prove to be.

“Stay here,” he told her, gentle but firm, and Victoire merely gave him an innocent smile in return and blew a raspberry in his face, clapping her hands together and giggling. He chuckled and patted her head gently, refusing to take his eyes off of her as he backed away to the closet, turning around only for the briefest of moments to grab a fresh shirt out of the closet and turning back around once he had done so to keep his eyes on Victoire as he changed.

Thankfully enough, Victoire simply sat there and watched him as he pulled on a fresh T-shirt before going over to sit down beside her on the bed, lying on his side and reaching out to gently grasp her hand in his. “Hi, Peanut,” he whispered, smiling when she crawled towards him and planted a wet kiss on his cheek.

He chuckled softly at the feeling, wiping Victoire’s saliva off his cheek with the blanket. God, she was perfect. His daughter.

The word still sounded so damn foreign to him. _“Daughter.”_ Éponine once commented on how it made them sound so grown up for a pair of twenty-five-year-olds.

His phone lit up on the nightstand, probably a new text, and before he could go over to grab it, Victoire scrambled over to get it for him, scooting back towards him with his phone in her chubby little hands. Enjolras laughed and gratefully took the phone from her, murmuring, “Thank you, Victoire, that’s very sweet of you.”

It was a selfie Éponine had sent, mirrored silver aviator sunglasses perched on the bridge of her nose and her brown newsboy cap atop her deep brown hair, and she was standing in front of a sculpture of what looked like an enormous silver bean. She was flashing a peace sign at the camera, a wide dimpled grin dominating her face, and Enjolras could see her students in the background, some waving at the camera, perhaps unbeknownst to Éponine.

**my rose [red heart emoji]: wish you and vicky were here xoxo**

He laughed softly to himself at the picture, showing Victoire. “Look, Peanut, it’s Mommy,” he told her brightly, pointing the screen to the infant.

Victoire squealed and attempted to grab the phone out of Enjolras’ hand, squealing, “Mamamamamamama!”

He laughed and took a picture of himself and Victoire to send back to Éponine. **We miss you too.**

Victoire was babbling on and on about Éponine—at least, that was what Enjolras deducted she was babbling about, with how her words were completely incomprehensible, as he waited to see if Éponine would respond.

**my rose [red heart emoji]: I MISS HER SO MUCH**

**my rose [red heart emoji]: did she eat breakfast yet**

Enjolras stole a sideways glance at Victoire—she was now busying herself with toying with the blanket, fascinated by the texture, and he smiled to himself at the sight before texting Éponine back. **Yes, she has. She spat applesauce in my face at one point, though.**

**my rose [red heart emoji]: now you know how i feel lmao**

**my rose [red heart emoji]: can you give her a bath??? you’re better at doing that than i am, you always stay dry whenever you give her a bath how do you do that**

Enjolras gazed over at Victoire, watching as she stuck a part of the blanket into her mouth before spitting it back out, making a face, and he typed back, **I will soon, I promise. She wants to play a bit first.**

**my rose [red heart emoji]: well, have fun :) i have to go now, i’ll talk to you later, i love you**

Enjolras suppressed a smile as he texted back, **I love you, too. So does Victoire. Wishing you were here.**

Turning off his phone, he placed it back on the nightstand before returning his attention to Victoire. He never minded being left on read; Éponine was often busy, too busy to type out a reply, and since she was chaperoning her students on a school trip at that very moment, Enjolras didn’t mind much when he got left on read. Not that he ever did.

He watched Victoire as she toyed with the blanket, running her chubby little fingers over it and cooing to herself, arms flailing as she laughed at the feeling. Enjolras smiled, reaching out to rub his daughter’s back and recalling how small she had been when she was first born—his tiny, precious little Peanut.

He sighed as he watched Victoire playing by herself, remembering the first time he held her in his arms and how he had sworn to himself at that very moment that he would give his life for her should the need to do so arise. He had been so anxious—so nervous about fatherhood, afraid of letting Éponine and their daughter down, absolutely terrified of damaging Victoire the way Éponine’s parents had damaged her. He would never be able to forgive himself if he did.

As Victoire looked up at him and gave him an absolutely adorable little grin, laughing and flailing her arms before crawling over to him to slobber kisses all over his face, Enjolras smiled and kissed Victoire’s forehead, sighing contentedly. He hadn’t known before that people could really fall in love so quickly, but the moment he first held Victoire in his arms, he knew he was a gone man. As she laughed and cooed and babbled endlessly while attempting to climb all over him, Enjolras couldn’t help but smile contentedly; his daughter’s laughter was music to his ears.

After a while, he reached out to give her his pointer finger to hold onto, shaking her chubby little hand slightly as her stubby fingers curled around his finger and murmuring, “What do you think of a bath, Peanut? Daddy’s going to give you a bath, what do you think?”

“Babababababa!” Victoire babbled enthusiastically in response, giving Enjolras a bright-eyed smile, melting his heart. Humming softly to her, he picked her up and placed a soothing hand on her back, sliding off the bed to exit the room.

Somehow, he managed to bathe her without complication, and it wasn’t long after he put on a little grey onesie on Victoire with the phrase “I’m not like a regular baby, I’m a cool baby” printed on it in (Musichetta had given them the onesie among others at Éponine’s baby shower, and though Enjolras initially hadn’t been the biggest fan of it, Éponine had found it absolutely fucking hilarious and insisted on dressing Victoire up in it at every given chance once she was big enough to fit it) over a pair of teeny striped baby stockings that the doorbell rang. Holding Victoire in his arms, Enjolras headed out of the nursery to go answer the door, opening it to find Grantaire there with Toby in his stroller.

“I’m under strict orders from your wife to make sure you and Vicky go out at least once every two days while she’s gone,” Grantaire told Enjolras solemnly, Toby punctuating his dad’s words with a well-timed bark.

Enjolras rolled his eyes as he bounced Victoire in his arms slightly, though his cheeks flushed the faintest shade of pink at Grantaire’s word choice. “She’s not my wife, R,” he corrected the brunet evenly.

“Yet,” Grantaire added with a little shit-eating grin on his face, wiggling his eyebrows.

Enjolras rolled his eyes even harder as he stepped aside to let Grantaire in, the man wheeling Toby’s stroller into the apartment before taking Toby out so he could run around and stretch his legs a little bit.

“I still don’t understand why you bought a stroller for your dog,” Enjolras remarked wryly as he watched Toby trot around the living room, still bouncing Victoire slightly in his arms.

“My baby is very easily tired,” Grantaire replied in a somewhat defensive manner as he approached Enjolras—or, more accurately, Victoire. “Gimme my niece, I wanna hold her.”

Victoire looked up at Grantaire and a delighted grin broke out across her face as she immediately started reaching for him, beaming and babbling incomprehensibly. Grantaire laughed and gladly took her out of Enjolras’ arms, bouncing the baby girl up and down as she pressed a wet kiss to the tip of his nose and clapped her hands together, letting out a squeal of laughter.

“Can you say Uncle R, Vicky?” Grantaire asked, bouncing her about. She only responded in a series of giggles, babbling happily and grabbing Grantaire’s face before tipping forward to plant a wet kiss on his nose once again.

“She can’t speak yet, R, you _know_ that,” Enjolras told him, shoving his hands into the front pocket of his hoodie. “That’s normal for a ten-month-old.”

Grantaire jutted out his bottom lip, eyes still fixed on Victoire as he mumbled, “Well, that’s bullsh—” He quickly cut himself off upon seeing the death glare Enjolras was shooting his way. Damn, if looks could kill.

“Anyway.”

As Grantaire bounced Victoire in his arms, he told Enjolras, “Go change your clothes, we’re going out for a walk. Let’s go to Central Park. Ep told me she doesn’t want you and Vicky to stay cooped up here the whole time while she’s gone. You two need some fresh air.” Looking Enjolras up and down, wrinkling his nose in distaste, Grantaire told him, “Go change! I’ll look after Vicky for a bit.”

Rolling his eyes yet again, Enjolras begrudgingly did as he was told, leaving Victoire with Grantaire as he went back to his bedroom to change.

* * *

“Seriously, Enj, when are you going to propose?”

Enjolras sighed and reached up with one hand to rub his temple as he pushed Victoire’s stroller along, Grantaire beside him carting Toby around in his big-ass dog stroller and nagging Enjolras incessantly about when he was finally going to pop the question to Éponine. A fleeting thought about the possibility that Éponine might have put this up to Grantaire to ask Enjolras about it crossed the golden-haired man’s mind for a split second before he decided that that couldn’t be it—Éponine wasn’t _that_ impatient to get married, Grantaire was probably just being the nosy little shit he is.

“When are _you_ going to ask Jehan out?” Enjolras retorted, raising his eyebrows and stifling a triumphant smirk when Grantaire’s cheeks flushed scarlet.

“Shut the fuck up,” he muttered, pointedly averting his gaze and tightly pressing his lips together as he continued to push Toby’s stroller down the path.

“Don’t curse around Victoire,” Enjolras snapped, displeased by Grantaire’s curt response to his question when the man had been nagging him about proposing to Éponine for the past half hour or so.

“She’s asleep,” Grantaire replied dismissively; the infant had fallen asleep ten minutes into their little outdoor excursion. “So anyway, when are you going to propose to Ep?”

“Again, when are _you_ finally going to ask Jehan out?” Enjolras asked. “I know you have feelings for him and I _know_ he reciprocates them. I’ve seen the way you look at each other. Why don’t you ask him out already?”

Grantaire gave him a wry grin. “Funny, I remember saying something along those lines to Ep a million years ago about you and her, when she was pregnant with Vicky,” he said, skirting around actually answering the question Enjolras posed.

“Answer the question, Grantaire.”

“Soon! I’ll ask him out soon,” Grantaire huffed, narrowing his eyes at Enjolras and scowling.

“And how soon is soon?” Enjolras questioned.

“Why the fuck are you so interested?” Grantaire snapped, taking a step away from Enjolras.

“Why do _you_ keep asking when I’m going to propose to ’Ponine?” Enjolras asked. “Why are you so convinced I’m going to propose to her in the first place?”

Grantaire rolled his eyes and sighed, giving Enjolras a thoroughly unimpressed look. “Seriously, Enj? A month ago, a few days after Ep’s birthday? I literally saw you go into a jewellery shop and walk out with a ring box. I know you bought an engagement ring. I _know_ you’re going to ask her.”

Enjolras stiffened, stopping in his tracks. “And how the hell would you know that?” he asked incredulously, cheeks burning.

Grantaire bit his lip, going silent. After several moments had passed, he sheepishly admitted, “I may have gone out of my way to follow you to see where you were going while I was taking Toby out for a walk.”

Enjolras stared at him in disbelief. “That’s really fucking creepy, R.”

“‘Don’t curse around Victoire,’” Grantaire mimicked mockingly.

“Don’t do that,” Enjolras snapped, rolling his eyes.

“Answer my question, then! When are you going to propose to her?” Grantaire pressed, giving Enjolras a pointed look.

Enjolras fell silent, contemplating his response for several moments as he stared straight ahead and pushed Victoire’s stroller down the path they had taken in Central Park, approaching the promenade. It wasn’t until ten minutes later that he finally responded.

“I think I’m going to take ’Ponine and Victoire upstate this summer,” he murmured as they strolled down the Central Park Mall, watching the people passing by. “I’m thinking of taking them to my hometown, to visit my parents. They have two log cabins, in the woods; I was thinking we could stay in one of them. There are these big open fields in the middle of the woods, Combeferre and I used to run through them growing up, we used to spend our summers there, catching fireflies. I want to take Éponine and Victoire to see the fireflies there.” He sighed, catching himself smiling at the thought of it—taking his girlfriend and their daughter to see the fireflies. “I think I’ll propose to her then. When it’s just us.”

“In the fireflies,” Grantaire oh so helpfully supplied, a loony grin dominating his face at how Enjolras’ eyes lit up when he talked about Éponine. “That’s so fucking cute.”

Enjolras gave him an exasperated look. “Are you happy now? I finally answered your question, jackass.”

“Eh, I guess so.” Grantaire feigned nonchalance as he stopped in front of one of the numerous caricaturists lining the promenade, watching in interest as they sketched a portrait of who Enjolras presumed was a tourist. He knew that Grantaire was friendly with many of the artists in Central Park, being one of them himself on occasion, and it seemed that Grantaire knew this particular artist, with how intently he was watching them sketch.

The tourist was quick to become aware of how there were two grown-ass men with two strollers standing right by them, and they turned around and gave them a smile. “Oh, hello, I didn’t see you there.”

“Don’t mind us,” Grantaire replied, flashing them a grin in return. “Just watching Takashi draw.”

The caricaturist—Takashi, their name is—looked up and gave Grantaire a quick smile. “Hi, R.”

“What’s up, my dude?” Grantaire’s grin grew ever wider as he pushed Enjolras forward slightly. “This is my friend Enjolras. His girlfriend’s out of state so she assigned me to babysit him.”

“That is not what she did,” Enjolras contradicted; it took everything in him not to roll his eyes. “Grantaire is just accompanying me.”

“Po-tay-to, puh-tah-to.” Grantaire brushed it off, still with that shit-eating grin on his face as Takashi returned to sketching the tourist.

“I’m Elena,” the tourist told them.

“Nice to meet you, Elena!” Grantaire reached out to shake her hand, still with a winning smile on his face.

Elena’s gaze drifted to Enjolras, who gave her a polite smile, before her gaze drifted down to Victoire, fast asleep in her stroller, pacifier in her mouth. “Oh!”

“My daughter,” Enjolras told her, chest swelling with pride—he would never tire of saying that.

“She’s gorgeous,” Elena complimented warmly, eyes travelling to Toby’s stroller, trying to catch a glimpse of the baby. Leaning closer, she jumped when she was met with the unmistakable sound of a dog’s bark.

Grantaire cackled at the look of utter shock and surprise on Elena’s face. “That’s Toby,” he said, unable to keep that shit-eating grin off his face. “I don’t think he likes you very much.” At the look of vague discomfort on Elena’s face, he added, “Don’t worry, he doesn’t like most people. It’s not personal.”

“You—you have a stroller for your dog.” It sounded as if it was meant to be a question, but the way Elena phrased it made it fall flat, sounding like a statement.

Grantaire raised his eyebrows. “Yeah, what’s your point?”

Elena just went quiet, going back to just sitting there as Takashi sketched her, and after a few moments of awkward silence, Grantaire said, “Well, I’ll see you around, Takashi! Don’t steal all my customers.”

Takashi barked out a dry laugh and waved them goodbye as Grantaire and Enjolras went on their way once again, pushing the strollers along. They had just taken seats at the edge of Bethesda Fountain when Victoire stirred, dark eyes slowly blinking open as she let out an enormous yawn, her pacifier falling out of her mouth. It wasn’t long until she realised that her pacifier had fallen out, which was when she began to cry, wailing loudly as Enjolras pulled the stroller closer to himself and swiftly picked up Victoire’s pacifier to put it back in her mouth.

He lifted her out of the stroller, into his arms, and gently bounced her up and down and talking to her in soothing tones as her cries gradually died down. “It’s okay, Peanut,” he whispered to her, holding her close and placing a hand against her little back. “I’m here. Daddy’s here.” He pressed a tender kiss to the infant’s cheek, murmuring softly, “Daddy’s here.”

Eventually Victoire went quiet, her little head resting against Enjolras’ shoulder as Grantaire watched them with a little smile on his face, holding Toby. “Aww, that’s adorable,” he remarked when Victoire lifted up her head to press a wet kiss to Enjolras’ cheek, giggling when he responded by kissing her forehead. “You’re such a _dad_ , oh, my God.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Enjolras asked, his brow furrowing in bewilderment as he looked over at Grantaire while Victoire played with his curls, babbling to herself. “I _am_ a dad.”

“Ugh, never mind, you ruined it.” Grantaire scoffed and rolled his eyes, ruffling Toby’s fur while the Yorkie licked his cheek, whining in that way dogs do and making Grantaire laugh. “So when can I see this engagement ring you got for Ep?”

“After I propose, when it’s hopefully on her finger,” Enjolras replied dryly, watching as Victoire toyed with the zipper of his fleece, pulling it up and down and up and down, eyes wide with fascination.

They stayed like that for a while, just sitting in silence as Victoire played around with Enjolras’ jacket and Grantaire thoroughly coddled Toby, before Enjolras broke the silence by looking up and asking tentatively, “R, do you think she’ll say yes? When I propose to her?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Grantaire replied without hesitation, breaking eye contact with Toby to look up at Enjolras. “She loves you a lot. Like, a lot, a lot. That’s an understatement. Point is, she’ll definitely say yes. You have nothing to worry about.”

Enjolras bit his lip and inhaled deeply before exhaling, his gaze drifting back to Victoire, who looked up at him and beamed happily.

“Dadadadadada!” She reached up to tug at his curls, evoking a laugh from the golden-haired man, and as she played with his hair, chubby little fingers winding themselves into his blond locks, he couldn’t help but think that he could get used to this.

* * *

Enjolras drifted in and out of dreams in which he saw flashes of a familiar mischievous smile belonging to none other than the brunette who had stolen his heart, among fleeting images of a small face and a little dimpled smile identical to his own accompanied by the joyful sound of a baby’s laughter— _his_ baby’s laughter—when his eyes blinked open, the first thing his mind registering being the sound of Victoire crying coming from the baby monitor on the nightstand.

He instantly sat bolt upright in bed, attempting to rub the sleep out of his eyes as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and got to his feet, pulling on a sweater over his T-shirt before trudging out of the bedroom. He made his way down the hall to the nursery, entering the room to find Victoire flailing about in her sleep, heartbreaking sobs ringing out through the room as Enjolras approached her crib.

He reached in to gently pick her up and into his arms, sniffing to check if she needed a diaper change, and once he came to the conclusion that that wasn’t the case, he went over to the glider chair in the corner and took a seat, gently shushing Victoire and rocking back and forth to try and calm her down. Slowly, agonisingly slowly, her wails began to die down, little by little, as Enjolras rocked back and forth, placing her against his chest and pressing a soothing hand to her back.

He liked to think that he had gotten pretty good at decoding Victoire’s different cries at this point—he knew what sort of crying meant she wanted to feed, as well as what kind of wails indicated that she had a dirty diaper, and so on. She seemed to have had a nightmare, in this case, judging by how heart-rending her sobs had been, and Enjolras wondered if it had to do with the fact that Éponine wasn’t there.

“It’s all right, Peanut,” he whispered soothingly, gently rocking back and forth. “Daddy’s here. It’s okay.”

Soon enough, her crying came to a halt, and Enjolras looked down to see that she had stuck her thumb in her mouth, gently sucking as she rested her head against his collarbone, eyelids drooping every now and then.

“You miss Mommy, don’t you?” Enjolras murmured, rubbing circles into Victoire’s back with his thumb. Gazing down at her, he could have sworn that the infant gave a little nod at his words. Sighing deeply, he mumbled, “I miss your mommy too, Victoire.” The bed felt so big and empty without Éponine’s warmth by his side; he had never realised how much he had taken that for granted up until now. “At least she’s coming back tomorrow. We’re going to go pick her up at the airport, aren’t we, Peanut?”

Victoire cooed softly before falling silent once again, sucking on her thumb and just contenting herself to rest against her father’s chest and be lulled back to sleep by his gentle rocking.

Enjolras gazed down at Victoire’s small face, quietly admiring her, heart bursting at how perfect she was, this perfect little girl he had helped create. This perfect little angel who had brought so much light and joy into his and Éponine’s life. Their daughter.

God, they actually had a _daughter_ , and she was absolutely perfect, in every single way imaginable.

He softly began to sing “You Are My Sunshine” as he gently rocked back and forth, steadily lulling Victoire to sleep. Never mind that he didn’t know just how late it was; all he could think about was placating his daughter and rocking her to sleep.

As he quietly sang to Victoire, his gaze drifted off to the stars projected on the ceiling from Victoire’s starry nightlight before his eyes wandered to the clock on the wall, and after squinting to make out the placement of the hands of the clock, he realised that it was just a little past two in the morning. Returning his gaze to Victoire, he found that he didn’t care—time didn’t matter as long as he had his daughter in his arms.

He soon trailed off upon noticing how Victoire had fallen fast asleep against his chest, contenting himself to just rock back and forth for a little while more before he got up to gently put her back in her crib after pressing a loving kiss to her little forehead, standing there before Victoire’s crib and just watching her sleeping for a few moments more before he exited the nursery, taking one last glance at Victoire over his shoulder before he closed the door behind him and headed back to his bedroom, climbing into bed and making himself comfortable, wrapping the sheets around himself.

Too many thoughts were filling his head as he tossed and turned in an attempt to make himself comfortable, keeping him from falling asleep, and as he lay there staring at the ceiling, at the glow-in-the-dark stars Éponine pasted up there on a whim a year ago when she had been seven months pregnant with Victoire, and Enjolras looked over at his phone on the nightstand and reached over to grab it, propping himself up against the headboard and looking through the infinite photographs and videos of Victoire, a little smile on his face.

He remembered how he and Éponine had almost immediately maxed out the storage on their phones back when they first brought Victoire home from the hospital when she was a month old; everything she did was just so damn cute, too cute not to capture on camera. Every little sneeze that made her whole little face scrunch up, every bright-eyed smile that brought out the dimples in her chubby little cheeks, every babble that sounded vaguely like a word… Enjolras filed them all away in the form of pictures and videos.

He was just in the midst of watching a video of Victoire making funny faces at the camera and blowing raspberries at him when a picture of Éponine smirking at the camera from behind her silver mirrored sunglasses filled up the screen, alerting him of an incoming call from her, and instantly, he picked up, bringing the phone up to his ear and lying down on his side.

 _“Hey,”_ Éponine chirped through the phone, and Enjolras smiled upon hearing the grin in her voice.

“It’s two in the morning, ’Ponine,” he murmured in response, though he couldn’t keep the little smile off his face at the sound of Éponine’s voice.

 _“Couldn’t sleep,”_ she replied. _“Got my phone out and saw you were online, so I called you.”_ Her tone of voice turned playful as she asked, _“Why are_ you _up at such an ungodly hour, ’Jolras?”_

Enjolras chuckled softly to himself. “Touché.”

He went quiet for a few moments before really responding, telling her, “Victoire was crying and woke me up; I think she had a nightmare. She’s sleeping again now, I rocked her back to sleep.”

 _“Oh, good.”_ Éponine fell silent for some time before she mumbled, _“I miss you.”_

Enjolras sighed ruefully, biting his lip. “I miss you, too. At least you’re coming back tomorrow.”

 _“You’re coming to pick me up, right?”_ He could hear how anxious Éponine sounded through the phone, sounding as if she was trying to hide it, and his heart broke just a little bit at the mere thought that Éponine was nervous about him possibly not being there when she walked out into the terminal pickup area.

“Of course I am, love,” he confirmed softly, pulling the blankets over himself. “I’ll be there. So will Victoire.”

 _“She better be,”_ Éponine said lightly, that joking tone coming back after Enjolras’ reassurance.

He could hear her sigh through the phone before she whispered, _“I really, really miss you.”_

“So do I,” Enjolras murmured in response. “The bed feels so empty without you here.”

 _“On the bright side, I’ll be back soon!”_ Éponine reminded him; she let out a little giggle through the phone, and he couldn’t help but think about how she had become someone who actually giggled ever since they first made things official.

“Three o’clock in the afternoon tomorrow at JFK, right?” Enjolras asked, just for confirmation.

 _“Yep,”_ Éponine affirmed, and he could hear the smile in her voice. _“Also, that’s technically today. I can’t wait to see you.”_

“Me, too,” Enjolras said, voice soft, quiet.

After several moments in which they just listened to each other breathing steadily through the phone, Éponine laughed softly and remarked, _“Damn, if we’re like this when I’m gone for a week and there’s only a one-hour time difference, how do you think we’d manage in an actual long-distance relationship?”_

“Well, I hope we never have to find out,” Enjolras replied truthfully, rearranging the pillow under his head. “But if we ever do have to, we’ll make it. I know we would. I promise.”

He could hear a faint giggle at the other end, followed by her murmuring, _“You have so much faith in us.”_

Enjolras bit his lip and smiled. “I love you.”

 _“I love you, too,”_ Éponine whispered.

Enjolras heard her yawn through the phone, sounding vaguely muffled, and he told her quietly, “I think you should get some sleep. There’s a lot going on tomorrow, after all.” He paused before chuckling softly and adding, “Technically today. Like you said.”

Éponine laughed, rather breathless. _“Yeah,”_ she agreed. _“I’ll see you tomorrow. Today, I mean. I love you.”_

“I love you, too,” Enjolras echoed, smiling to himself and waiting for her to hang up, placing his phone back on the nightstand once she had done so and curling up under the sheets, eyelids growing heavy as he began to drift off once again, the anticipation of Éponine’s imminent return in his mind all the while.

* * *

The terminal was bustling with numerous crowds, too many to count, as announcements echoed throughout the airport from the loudspeakers overhead, people shouting in fifteen different languages all around them while Enjolras stood in the midst of it all, accompanied by Combeferre, who was holding Victoire and pointing out things all around them that caught his eye to her, her stroller situated in front of him.

Enjolras’ eyes searched the crowds for any sign of Éponine, anxiously awaiting her arrival after having received a text from her just fifteen minutes prior that she had just gotten off the plane along with her students and the two other teacher chaperones. She had told him that it would take some time for them to get all their luggage from baggage claim, but even still, Enjolras couldn’t help but shift from foot to foot as he stared straight ahead, waiting for his girlfriend to make an appearance.

“You all right there?” Enjolras turned at the sound of Combeferre’s voice; he was bouncing Victoire up and down in his arms, barely able to keep her from grabbing the glasses off his face. When Enjolras gave him a quizzical look, Combeferre clarified, “You’re looking jittery.”

“Just waiting for Éponine,” Enjolras replied, gaze drifting back to the people arriving in the pickup area after their journeys.

“Didn’t she just land?” Combeferre asked, gently prying Victoire’s hand out of his hair when she grabbed a clump of it in her little hand and pulled.

“She got off about fifteen minutes ago,” Enjolras told him. “Probably still at baggage claim. I think.”

“Dadadadadada!” Victoire hollered, reaching out towards Enjolras and nearly falling out of Combeferre’s grasp. Laughing, Combeferre handed Victoire off to Enjolras, who took her from him and gently bounced her up and down, chuckling when she smacked a wet kiss on his cheek.

“Mommy’s coming back, Victoire!” Enjolras told her brightly, smiling when she squealed and clapped her hands together. “She’ll be back soon.”

“Mamama!” she cried out happily, clapping her hands in anticipation as Enjolras bounced her up and down.

“Look over there, tell me if you see her!” Enjolras pointed in the direction of the new arrivals, Victoire’s eyes following where he was pointing at. They stayed like that for a while before she quickly got bored and demanded to be handed back to Combeferre, so Enjolras did as Victoire demanded, handing her off to her godfather.

Another ten minutes had passed by the time Enjolras received another text from Éponine, and he eagerly took his phone out of his coat pocket to read her text.

**my rose [red heart emoji]: i’ll be there soon, only two kids left waiting for their stuff :)**

A newfound longing to see Éponine spread throughout Enjolras as he paced back and forth, watching the crowds for any sign of her or her students. It felt like it was just him and Combeferre and Victoire, with him pacing about while Victoire toyed with the collar of Combeferre’s jacket and babbled nonsensically to him while he replied in full sentences, engaged in a thoroughly confusing conversation with the baby.

Fifteen minutes passed by the time Enjolras caught a fleeting glimpse of Éponine’s trademark brown newsboy cap, disappearing so quickly, almost as quickly as it appeared, that he wondered if he had just imagined it or it was really there, and it wasn’t until Éponine shoved her way out of the crowds that Enjolras felt his breath catch in his throat, eyes lighting up at the sight of her.

Éponine’s eyes searched the area for a few moments before landing on Enjolras and a huge smile broke out on her face when she saw him, not hesitating to take off running towards him in those ankle boots while dragging her suitcase behind her, letting go only when she was about two feet away from Enjolras and immediately launching herself into his arms.

Enjolras stumbled backwards and barely had time to keep himself from falling over as Éponine flung her arms around his neck and hooked her legs around his waist, firmly pressing her lips to his in greeting. He instantly returned the kiss, kissing her back with equal, if not greater, fervour, arms locked under her to support her as her hands snaked their way into his hair, fingers tangled in his golden curls while she kissed him like it was the end of the world, goosebumps erupting along her skin at the almost desperate way he kissed her back. It was as if it was only the two of them there, the rest of the world falling away while she kissed him passionately, a week’s worth of longing being poured out in a single fiery kiss in the middle of the airport. By the time they broke apart, their lungs had been completely robbed of air, and Enjolras could hear a few of Éponine’s students loudly whooping and cheering for them in the background.

Inhaling sharply, Enjolras gazed at Éponine through shining blue eyes, a breathless laugh escaping his lips as she smiled at him, that adorable dimpled smile he had fallen head over heels for so long ago. She couldn’t stop smiling as she leaned in to press another kiss to his lips, this one much briefer than the previous one, before pulling away, deep brown eyes sparkling with utter happiness.

“Hey,” she whispered.

Enjolras exhaled for what felt like the first time since he first laid eyes on her among the new arrivals, breathing out in response, “Welcome back.”

Éponine laughed and leaned in to press her forehead against his, closing her eyes and letting out a deep, contented sigh before she heard the sound of Victoire’s voice.

“Mamamamamama!” the little girl squealed, and Éponine turned her head to see Victoire reaching out towards her from Combeferre’s arms.

Éponine’s eyes lit up. “Hi, Peanut!”

She beamed and jumped down from Enjolras’ arms to rush over to Combeferre, taking Victoire out of his arms and into her own and letting out a joyous laugh when Victoire grabbed her face with her chubby little hands and tipped forward to kiss the tip of Éponine’s nose, Éponine erupting into a giggle fit as she did so.

“Oh, you missed Mommy, didn’t you? What did you and Daddy do while I was away?” Éponine smacked a big kiss on Victoire’s cheek, making her squeal happily once again and start babbling out a stream of nonsense words in what seemed to be her attempt to relay what had happened while her mother was gone. Éponine listened attentively, nodding and responding while Enjolras watched them both with a fond smile on his face, Combeferre going over to stand by him.

“You really missed her, didn’t you?” Combeferre murmured, his head slightly tilted as he watched Éponine engaged in deep conversation with little Victoire.

Enjolras nodded, still rather dazed. “Yeah. Yeah, I really did.”

As he stood there, gazing at Éponine bouncing Victoire in her arms and laughing with the little girl, the corners of his mouth quirked up in an affectionate smile, his heart full to bursting with absolute unconditional love for them both. The best things that had ever happened to him.

He watched Victoire grasp Éponine’s face in her hands and lean forward to plant wet kisses all over the laughing young woman’s face, and in that moment, Enjolras hoped, from the very bottom of his heart, that he would soon be able to call Éponine his wife.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [hey](https://bisexual-eponine.tumblr.com/ask)


	3. my heart’s against your chest, your lips pressed to my neck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which two extremely hungover twenty-somethings wake up naked in each other's arms the morning after unknowingly conceiving their daughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **rated M for Morning Sexy Timez in addition to graphic description of Feelings™**
> 
> okay technically this one isn't a kid fic, but i really wanted to write about the morning after victoire was conceived, and anyway this one shot series is really just the outtakes and little sequels/prequels/etc. of the intertwined verse so voilà, this came as a result of it. definitely not as fluffy as the previous two one shots. i had way too much fun writing angsty jolras, so here ya go ;)
> 
> set the morning after his twenty-fourth birthday (and y'all know what happened that night wink wink)

* * *

Heavy rain pattered against the windows behind the dark curtains as thunder crackled outside, lightning flashing through the sky and illuminating the heavens with a vivid electric blue. The abrupt rainstorm chased all the light indoors, apartment windows glowing yellow here and there, and even through the downpour that showed no sign of stopping anytime soon, people still hurried down the streets, a blurred mass of trench coats and umbrellas. Lightning flashed and thunder boomed, and it was to this that Enjolras found himself waking up to in a groggy daze.

The first thing he registered was his throbbing headache, undoubtedly a result of his dreadful hangover, which in turn was definitely caused by him getting absolutely trashed the previous night. Letting out a slight groan, he reached up to rub his temple, screwing his eyes shut and hoping his migraine would just go away.

No such luck.

He was so focused on attempting to will away his hangover to no avail, he didn’t quite pick up on the fact that he was tangled in the sheets, completely naked. Absolutely bare. Unclothed.

And if that wasn’t overwhelming enough as it was, to top it all off, he soon realised that he wasn’t alone in his bed.

Eyes widening, Enjolras’ gaze slowly moved down to steal a glance at the small naked person clinging to him in their sleep, head resting on his chest, and once he had laid eyes on them, he nearly choked on the vomit that was threatening to expel itself from his stomach, though whether that was a result of his hangover or his state of utter and complete disbelief, Enjolras wasn’t quite sure.

Because that person was none other than Éponine.

He felt as if he had earned a punch to the gut, all the air having left his lungs, as he stared down in disbelief at a very naked sleeping Éponine holding on to him in her sleep, breathing slightly erratic. He couldn’t bring himself to breathe at the sight of her there, sleeping soundly, disrobed, one of his arms slung protectively over her back.

Good God, what had happened last night?

As a million possibilities filled up Enjolras’ head all at once, further worsening his splitting headache, Éponine stirred in his arms, mouth forming a little ‘O’ as she let out a yawn, dark eyes blinking open. Almost instantly, she winced, closing her eyes once again as a look of vague discomfort crossed her face, and it wasn’t until two minutes later that she finally opened her eyes again, only to look up into a stunned Enjolras’ wide blue eyes.

Her eyes promptly increased to the size of saucers at this discovery, and as she finally tore her gaze away from Enjolras’ face and looked down to hide how her cheeks had reddened considerably, she very quickly comprehended the fact that they were both naked, her breath catching in her throat. The last thing she remembered was falling into bed with him last night, the two of them heavily under the influence of alcohol and unable to keep their hands off of each other, kissing madly. Moving slightly and wincing, feeling an ache between her legs, she realised just how far they had gone last night.

Hit a home run, as Courfeyrac would call it.

Taking a deep breath, a real breath, for the first time in what felt like ages, Éponine looked back up at Enjolras and mustered a wan smile. “Morning.”

“Good morning,” Enjolras breathed out in response, flustered beyond belief at the realisation that they had had sex.

He, Gabriel Enjolras, had sex with Éponine Thénardier. And on the night of his _birthday_ , no less.

Had they not been in the extremely awkward situation they were in at that very moment, he probably would have been jumping and screaming for joy.

Okay, probably not that far.

He was still in the midst of completely processing the fact that he had had sex last night with the girl of his dreams, his roommate who he’d been pathetically in love with for years and she still hadn’t noticed, when Éponine laughed softly and rested her head on his chest. He hoped she didn’t notice how his heartbeat quickened at the action.

“Some birthday present I gave you, huh?” she murmured. He could hear the wry smile in her voice.

Enjolras nearly choked, turning it into a cough in record time. “Ha. Yeah.”

The verity of the situation was really beginning to sink in now—under any other circumstances, he probably would have been over the fucking moon about the fact that he had actually had sex with Éponine, if it weren’t for the fact that was they had only done it because they had both been drunk off their asses.

This crushing reality made Enjolras’ heart sink into his stomach as he lay there with Éponine cuddled up against him and holding him tight while he absently trailed his fingers up and down the length of her arm. They just lay there for a while, in awkward silence, while the rainstorm raged on outside, a sonorous clap of thunder shaking the apartment as rain pounded against the windows.

After some time had passed, Éponine spoke again. “You’re… you’re being really quiet. What’s up?”

Her voice was rather shaky, uncertain, and Enjolras tensed up, having no idea how to respond to that.

“I’m just… trying to process it, I guess,” he mumbled, cheeks flushed. “I also have a really bad hangover, so there’s that.”

Éponine bit her lip and sighed, rubbing her legs together under the sheets and shivering slightly at how the space between her legs ached, heat gathering in that very spot. He must have fucked her good last night.

Éponine looked back up at him, their eyes meeting, and she held his gaze for several breathless moments before her eyes flicked to his lips for a split second, and she licked her lips.

Enjolras’ breath caught in his throat when Éponine licked her lips, hardly able to breathe, unable to dare himself to do so. What could _that_ possibly mean?

Éponine reached up with a small, tentative hand to gently, hesitantly cup his jaw, rubbing his cheek with her thumb and not quite noticing how his heart rate jumped underneath her. “Do you regret it?” she whispered, breathless.

Enjolras slowly shook his head. “No. No, I don’t.” Taking another deep breath, he asked her gingerly, “Do you?”

Éponine looked down, spots of pink blooming in her cheeks as she bit her lip, and Enjolras could have sworn she smiled, just a little, as she murmured, “No. I don’t think so.”

A breathless laugh escaped his lips, a dizzy sort of sensation rising to his head in his state of utter euphoria, and he watched attentively as Éponine looked back up at him. She gently traced his jawline with her thumb, an unreadable expression on her face, and he felt as if his heart was going to burst out of his chest from how damn fast it was beating when she slowly leaned up to softly, tentatively press her lips to his.

The kiss was slow, hesitant—her lips were barely brushing his, giving him a chance to pull away at any moment, and for a while, he lay there, frozen, before he leaned forward slightly and kissed her back, reaching up to gently grasp the back of her neck. He kissed her like she was his whole universe, tender and sweet, nothing like the ardent way they had furiously made out last night, and her hands snaked up into his hair, fingers carding through his tousled golden curls as she moved and pulled him on top of her, and he did as she silently asked of him, from the way she kissed him as if it was their last.

In a way, he thought, maybe it was.

Éponine’s fingers were tangled in Enjolras’ hair as her warm lips moved against his, and a fleeting thought about how her breath smelled of alcohol and lavender—an odd combination, but somehow alluring—briefly flitted through Enjolras’ mind as Éponine pulled him flush against her, shivering at the way he traced her curves in such a reverent manner. Her insistent lips spurred a more fiery and passionate response from him, and if she were to pinpoint the moment they completely lost themselves in the kiss, that would be exactly it.

Kissing Éponine was ecstasy, absolute bliss, and Enjolras could feel goosebumps rising to the surface as she brought one hand down to run her fingers up and down his spine. He trailed his hand along her bare skin before placing it protectively on the nape of her neck, gently grasping her hip with his other hand and sighing contentedly as she kissed him even fiercer still, making his brain short-circuit when she let out a pleasured moan into his mouth.

He groaned and pressed her into the bed, her tongue delving into his mouth after she nibbled at his bottom lip in her own way of requesting entry, and it was utter heaven, raw passion accentuating the absolute longing in the kiss. Enjolras saw stars as one of Éponine’s hands slid down to firmly grab his ass, a strangled groan of pleasure falling from his lips, and she shivered beneath him at the feeling of his morning erection rubbing up against her, heat quickly pooling between her legs at the sensation and making her moan.

They were gasping for air by the time they broke apart, and Enjolras wasted no time in moving to press a tender kiss to Éponine’s jaw, beginning to trail kisses up her jaw as she giggled at the ticklish feeling of it, rubbing her legs together and letting out an involuntary mewl at how damp the space between her thighs had become. Enjolras went to nibble on her earlobe before moving further down, pressing kisses along the length of her neck, and he couldn’t help but feel rather smug upon seeing the dark purple spots he had left all over her neck the previous night as he pressed gentle kisses to it now, enjoying the way she hummed and sighed far more than he probably should.

“’Jolras…” The shaky way she moaned out his name in sheer bliss made Enjolras’ stomach do a backflip, further spurring him on, and he pressed firm kisses to her collarbone as she tangled her fingers in his hair, chest rising and falling with sharp, heavy breaths at the feeling of his mouth on her breasts. “Oh, God… _yes_ , fuck, yes… Enjolras!”

His hands ghosted over her breasts, her thighs, tracing the curve of her hips as she squirmed underneath him, a whimper of his name transforming into a long, drawn-out moan of desire when his hand drifted down to between her legs, gently caressing the space between her thighs as he pressed generous kisses all over her breasts, leaving a pattern of faint pink marks against her olive skin. She let out a breathless moan when his fingers brushed against her clit, shuddering as her grip on his hair tightened.

“’Jolras, please,” she whispered, her breath hitching in her throat when he looked up at her, the most adoring look in his shining blue eyes. If she weren’t so hungover, she probably would have started overthinking that.

She tossed her head back and moaned loudly as she felt two fingers finding their way between her slick folds, Enjolras’ mouth on her breasts while he deftly fingered her, fingers delving in and out of her core and causing the most titillating sounds to escape Éponine’s throat, nearly driving Enjolras mad with longing. He recalled all he could from the events of last night, doing his best to remember just how to make her fall apart at his touch, fingers hooking and curling inside her and making her shudder against the sheets, wriggling and writhing about and taking her hands out of his hair to grab fistfuls of the blanket in her hands as he skilfully worked her, fingers dancing between her thighs.

He soon stopped pressing kisses all over her chest to watch how she was squirming and moaning at the feeling of his fingers hitting all the right spots, transfixed by the way she screwed her eyes shut and mewled, and just as she was on the brink of orgasm, she threw her arms around him and brought him closer to her, burying her face in his neck and letting out a scream as she unravelled against him, moaning and whimpering into the crook of his neck as she went limp underneath him, gasping as wave after wave of absolute pleasure washed over her.

“Enjolras…,” she whined, still shaking from the sheer force of her orgasm. “Oh, _God_ …”

She pressed a long, sensuous kiss to his neck, completely robbing his lungs of air, and she whimpered when he slowly pulled his fingers out of her and brought his hand up to his face to stick his fingers in his mouth and lick them clean. He lifted himself up once again to gaze into Éponine’s eyes, darkened with desire, pupils blown. She reached up to tangle her fingers in his hair and pulled him down into another fervent kiss, sighing against his lips as he let out a soft moan of her name.

“Oh, ’Ponine…” Enjolras half expected himself to be waking up any minute now, almost thinking that this was just some vivid wet dream he could awake from at any moment, but this felt far too real to simply be a fantasy, so he kissed Éponine madly, passionately, tongues entwining in their mouths as he pressed his body to hers, pressing her into the bed, the both of them tangled up together in the sheets.

He wished he could pour his heart out to her as his lips parted from hers to travel downwards, trailing kisses all the way down to her stomach, but the more rational part of him firmly decided that that was a beyond terrible idea, so he attempted to do all he could to put in actions what he couldn’t in words as his lips moved down, down, down, feeling how Éponine’s breath hitched underneath him and unable to keep himself from smirking smugly before he quickly stopped at how it made his head throb even more than it did before.

He gently pried her legs apart and she was quick to comply without complaint, shuddering when he nestled between her thighs, catching that whiff of her and nearly losing his mind at the scent. He leaned in and pressed a long, tender kiss to her slit, lips curving into a slight smile at how she let out a tiny gasp underneath him, almost a squeak, at the feeling of his short, exhilarated breaths against her dripping sex.

Trembling hands twisting into his golden curls, she attempted to push him further downwards, desperate to have him fuck her so thoroughly with his tongue as he had done the previous night, and after the briefest of moments of initial resistance, he obliged, more than eager to cater to her every whim. He let her guide him down with her hands to where she wanted him the most, experimentally running his tongue up her slit, and she shuddered at the feeling. “Enjolras, _please_ …”

His hands went to gently move Éponine’s legs over his shoulders and he pressed a sweet kiss to the inside of her thigh, resisting a smile at the way she giggled. He made himself comfortable between her legs once again, taking his time in doing so before he got back to work.

Enjolras pressed a long, lingering kiss to her clit before his tongue delved between her slick folds, finding her heated cleft and lapping generously at her, and he moaned against her core at the taste of her, sweet and intoxicating, something so indescribably _her_ , his head spinning at the way she responded to his careful ministrations, gasping and sighing and mewling as she writhed about at the feeling of his tongue dipping in and out of her folds, exploring her centre. Éponine’s fingers tightly grasped his hair, and her hips bucked up against his face at how he lapped profusely at her, lapping up her dripping juices until the only words rolling off her tongue were desperate moans of his name with a string of expletives scattered throughout, whining and whimpering when he lapped at her even more insistently, bright lights dancing behind her eyes and fire coursing through her body.

He just could not stop kissing her in that secret place, licking into her and groaning against her sex, unable to get enough of her, while she writhed and wriggled beneath him, desperate for release. She threw her head back against the pillows and let out a loud, high-pitched moan when he finally, _finally_ stopped torturing her by taking her clit into his mouth, latching onto that little pearl of nerves and humming as he began to suck. He was rewarded by the sound of her cries and moans as his tongue flicked at and swirled around her clit, growling from deep in his throat at the taste of her, her hips rocking up into his face at the sensation his strangled groans and low hums against her clit sent racing through her veins, skirting closer to the edge, so close to absolute perfection.

Enjolras attempted to recall all he could from the hazy events of the previous night as he lapped up her juices, sucking generously on her clit and moaning at the taste of her while she spasmed and squirmed underneath him, so close to that level of heaven she so longed to reach, and in that moment, all he could think about was how he was going to give that to her no matter what. His tongue wove in and out of her dampened folds as he sucked on that little bundle of nerves, Éponine’s little gasps and squeals like music to his ears. She was reduced to a moaning, whimpering mess, half-uttered curses rolling off her tongue as she repeated his name like a prayer, demanding that he didn’t stop, and he was more than happy to comply, licking his way up between her folds and sending her spiralling.

Éponine’s hips rocked up against Enjolras’ face as if of their own accord as she arched her back, almost as if she was offering herself to him, head thrown back against the pillows and breathless moans falling from her lips, trembling legs wrapping tighter around his head, and Enjolras let out a deep, guttural moan against her clit, relentless.

The next time his name was on Éponine’s lips, on the very tip of her tongue, it came out as a strangled cry.

Éponine’s back arched off the bed, crying out his name before it transformed into a long, high-pitched moan, and her mind snapped, shattering underneath him and going limp, gasping and whimpering as waves of pleasure broke over her, seeing stars. Enjolras kept humming even while the aftershocks rippled through Éponine, hungrily lapping up her juices and losing his mind at the way she mewled, legs splayed over his shoulders.

Finally, he gently removed her legs from around his head before coming up for air, his jaw aching, mouth swollen and wet, and his eyes roamed over her body, her gorgeous perfect bare body. Éponine was still twitching, trembling, eyes closed and chest heaving, highly sensitive from her devastating orgasm, and Enjolras couldn’t help but smile in exhilaration at the sight of her there, crawling his way up her body to press a tender kiss to her cheek as her dark eyes slowly fluttered open to be met with the sight of him gazing down at her like she hung the moon and stars.

“Kiss me,” she breathed.

Who was Enjolras to refuse?

He leaned down to gently capture her lips in his, dizzy with want at how she sighed against his lips and reached up to cradle his face in her small hands, thumb tenderly rubbing against his cheek. She let out a tiny moan at how she could taste herself on his lips, her utter need for him growing stronger with each passing moment as they lay there in bed, kissing lazily.

When Enjolras pulled away, Éponine let out a long-winded sigh, closing her eyes before opening them once again to gaze up at him. His blue eyes were soft, tender, and if she didn’t have that uncomfortable pounding sensation in her head as a result of her hangover, she might have noticed the affectionate look written all over his face.

“Please, ’Jolras,” she whispered. “I…” Her breath caught in her throat, rendering her speechless for several moments before she took in a deep breath and tried again. “I… God, ’Jolras, I need you. Right now.”

A doubtful look must have crossed his face, because Éponine started pleading, voice breathless and desperate. “ _Please_ , Enjolras. I want you.”

Fuck, she wanted him. So fucking bad.

Enjolras’ breath hitched at the desperation in her voice as those words fell from her lips, her dark eyes clouded with lust and an urgent need for him to be inside her _right now_ , and maybe it came about as a result of his hangover, because for once, he didn’t think twice.

He settled between her legs and mounted himself, hands delicately grasping her hips as if she was the most precious thing in the world. After positioning himself at her opening, he slowly began to enter her with a groan, taking his time in doing so in order for her to grow accustomed to the feeling, and she grabbed his back and pulled him close to her chest and whimpered softly at the feeling of him stretching her, filling her, all the breath stolen out of her lungs. He buried his face in her neck, letting out a deep sigh once he had buried himself inside her to the hilt, and once she rolled her hips against his, the rest was history.

Éponine let out a moan when Enjolras started moving inside her, _with_ her, one hand on his spine and the other in his hair as she pressed kisses along his broad shoulder while he had his face buried in the crook of her neck, his groans and growls muffled by her bare skin. He thrust into her at a slow, deliberate pace, moving upwards and brushing her clit with each thrust, and she gasped at the feeling, pulling him closer to her, the both of them losing themselves in the moment.

It was lazy but passionate, the two of them tangled up in the sheets and in each other, Enjolras pressing soft kisses to the crook of her neck with one arm looped around her back and his other hand pressed against the nape of her neck while Éponine combed her fingers through his hair and ran her free hand up and down his spine, the only sounds in the room being their moans and groans of each other’s names while sheets of rain smashed against the windows, crackles of thunder resounding outside. Nothing too intense, just the two of them slowly, deliberately moving as one, a mass of warmth and messy tenderness, limbs entangled and lips pressed against skin, unequivocal pleasure racing through their veins and sending shivers down their spine.

As Enjolras let out a quiet moan of Éponine’s name into her neck, he caught himself thinking about how he could get used to this.

It might have lasted forever or only a moment—neither of them could quite tell, because soon, too soon, Éponine was crying out his name and squeezing her eyes shut as she buried her face in his shoulder, moans high-pitched while clenching fiercely around him, shattering against him with a muffled scream of his name. The feeling of her walls tightening around his cock proved to be too much for Enjolras, his movements becoming erratic and less controlled as he let out a strangled groan of her name into the crook of her neck and burst inside her, doing his best not to collapse on top of her as he pressed kisses to her neck, riding his way through the aftershocks and groaning her name from deep in his throat, pleasure overtaking them, very nearly blinding them.

Éponine went limp underneath him, boneless and shaking, and Enjolras used whatever was left of his energy to lift himself up slightly to gaze down at her struggling to catch her breath and panting softly. She was a mess, dark hair fanned out against the pillows and a thin layer of sweat covering her body, and she was beautiful. Stunning. Alluring. Absolutely breathtaking.

Christ, it was almost laughable how in love with her he was.

Her eyes slowly blinked open and she gazed up at him, breathless, a strange sort of smile on her face, and before he could fully register what was happening, she was winding her hands into his golden curls and pulling him down into a passionate kiss, moaning into his mouth as he readily kissed her back, a jumble of thoughts racing through his mind a mile a minute. After several blissful moments, he came back up for air, gazing down at her with an affectionate little smile, and the two of them locked eyes.

Éponine whimpered at the loss of warmth when Enjolras pulled out of her, collapsing beside her on the bed, and she almost instantly snuggled up to him, letting him loop a protective arm around her back and begin stroking her hair as she laid her head against his chest, vaguely noticing how rapidly his heart was beating but still not making any connections.

“Oh, God…” She breathed out a contented sigh at the feeling of being in Enjolras’ arms. Never mind that they both smelled like sex, rather sweaty; she didn’t think she wanted to be in any other place in the world at this very moment. “’Jolras, that was…”

She let out a squeak of surprise as the feeling of his lips brushing against her forehead. “Thank you,” she whispered, clinging to him as tightly as she possibly could.

Enjolras fell silent, letting a few moments of silence pass between them before he spoke up, voice rather uncertain. “So… what happens after this?”

God, he sounded so fucking needy and he hated himself for it, especially considering the fact that Éponine would probably never love him the way he was so head over heels for her. He was still trying to find a way to be completely okay with that.

Maybe he never would. Maybe he would just go the rest of his life hating himself for that.

The sound of Éponine’s sigh brought him out of his thoughts, and he gazed down at her, absently stroking her hair as she struggled for the words. “I’m not sure,” she whispered at last. “Do you think we should just… try to forget this ever happened? We were really trashed last night, after all.”

 _But we aren’t trashed right now,_ Enjolras caught himself thinking, his heart sinking into his stomach at her words. He had no right to be feeling this way, and he knew it.

“I don’t want things to be weird between us because of this,” Éponine whispered, absent-mindedly running her fingers over his chest, going down to idly trace his abs. “You’re my best friend, ’Jolras. I don’t want us to lose what we have because of… because of _this_. I don’t want to sacrifice our friendship because of some stupid mistake we made while we were drunk.”

“We won’t,” Enjolras murmured, leaning his head against hers and slowly feeling his heart break. He really should have known better than to hope for more than this.

No. If it was what she wanted, then he would let this become a thing of the past, and he was going to find a way to be okay with that, even if it took the rest of his life. If it would make Éponine happy, then fuck his stupid unrequited feelings. His best friend’s happiness came first.

“So… we’re going to leave this all behind?” Éponine’s voice was quavering, uncertain, and she looked up to meet his eyes, biting her lip.

“If that’s what you want,” Enjolras mumbled, averting his gaze so she wouldn’t see the pain in his eyes at her referring to their tryst as nothing but a drunken mistake.

Éponine tensed up for several moments before carefully asking the one question that hadn't come to Enjolras' mind.

“What do _you_ want, ’Jolras?”

She sounded guarded, cautious in her wording, and Enjolras found himself at a complete loss for words. He couldn’t come up with a truthful response to that without pouring his heart out to her, which might very well damage their friendship permanently, given how she tended to react poorly to love confessions made to her.

He tried to laugh it off, a nervous, crazy-sounding chuckle escaping his lips, his first instinct being to deflect. “Who cares what I want…” He trailed off, finding himself tongue-tied.

Éponine’s brow furrowed slightly with some incredulity as she kept her eyes fixed on his face despite him firmly avoiding her gaze. “I do.”

“If you want this to just be this one-time thing, then this will just be a one-time thing,” Enjolras told her quietly, now outright avoiding answering her question. “We can move on with our lives and forget this ever happened. Nobody needs to know.”

His words were rather harsh, and he didn’t mean to come off that way, he really didn’t, but he couldn’t help but feel like punching himself at what he thought looked like slight hurt creeping into Éponine’s eyes. “Fine, then,” she muttered, finally looking down and trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice. “We’ll just forget this ever happened.”

Enjolras’ throat tightened, but he found himself nodding nonetheless. “Okay, then.”

The silence that hung in the air between them became too heavy, and it would have quickly become unbearable if not for the downpour outside providing some soothing background noise. Éponine didn’t detach herself from Enjolras, miraculously enough, especially given their awkward post-sex conversation mere moments earlier, and he kept stroking her hair, holding her in his arms as his heart-rate slowly but steadily returned to normal.

After a while, Éponine let out a little laugh, possibly in an attempt to get rid of the awkwardness that had fell upon the room. “That was some birthday, wasn’t it?”

Enjolras chuckled quietly, pulling her closer towards him. “Yeah, I guess it really was.”

“I did get you a birthday present, you know,” Éponine told him, the corners of her lips quirking up in a slight smile at the feeling of him gently stroking her tousled hair. “I didn’t just have sex with you to make up for a lack of one.”

Enjolras closed his eyes for several moments and smiled to himself. “Good to know.”

“I think ’Ferre recorded the whole night, last night,” Éponine remarked. “There’s probably a video of you dancing around to ‘Shake It Off’, I’m sure.”

Enjolras’ cheeks warmed up at the hazy memory of it. “Are you forgetting how you were practically screaming ‘Mr. Brightside’ to the whole bar?”

Éponine lightly shoved him, though she was grinning. “Shut the fuck up. Can’t forget how Joly dragged Chetta and Bossuet up there to sing ‘Waterloo’.” She laughed at the memory, however cloudy it may be due to her having been wasted at the time. She didn’t think she’d ever be able to forget the bits and pieces she recalled of how they had eventually all gone up on stage to let loose and sing ABBA karaoke like the absolute children they were.

She looked up at him and their eyes locked, brown gazing into blue. “So… we’ll just forget this happened. The sex, I mean.”

Enjolras felt a pang in his heart, but he nodded nonetheless. “I suppose we will.”

The way his face fell slightly at the reminder thankfully went unnoticed by Éponine.

He stopped breathing momentarily when she leaned up to press a soft, grateful kiss to his cheek. He hoped she wouldn’t notice his heartbeat quickening underneath her when she settled her head back on his chest, going back to absently tracing his abs as they resumed their conversation as if nothing had just happened.

As they lay there together, the rainstorm raging on outside, they discussed everything—from love and relationships to their jobs to their friends to Grantaire’s new dog, a little Yorkshire terrier pup he had named Toby, and it almost felt as if it was just another regular conversation between them. Just two best friends/roommates conversing animatedly between themselves. As they lost themselves in conversation, Éponine wrapped up in Enjolras’ arms while they lay there on the bed, she let herself believe that this really would be nothing but a thing of the past in due course.

Little did they know that in approximately seven weeks, reality was going to come back to bite them in the ass.


	4. I'll find your lips in the streetlights (part i)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are two giddy newlyweds going off on their honeymoon to the city of love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **i am choosing to keep this fic unrated; to elaborate, it's rated T for the most part, with some sexy bits rated M. hell yeah, there are sexy bits. it wouldn't be a honeymoon fic without 'em.**
> 
> this is gross. and cheesy. and fluffy. and smutty. but they deserve it. and so do i. 2019 is going to be the year of self care and good vibes and i speak that into existence!!
> 
> set about a week after their wedding, give or take.

* * *

“Do we have the passports?”

“Right here.”

“They’re up to date, right?”

“Yeah, I checked earlier.”

“Are our carry-ons overweight?”

“Nope, just weighed them.”

“Where are the suitcases?”

“Already in the living room, I think I last saw Vicky sitting on one.”

“Did you pack the umbrellas? Paris is rainy this time of year.”

“Got them in my suitcase.”

“Are you _sure_ we have everything?”

“Jesus _fuck_ , ’Jolras, _yes_ , we have everything! Can we go now?”

Enjolras finally stopped pacing the bedroom and looked at Éponine, who was already fully dressed and sitting at the edge of the bed, newsboy cap perched atop her dark hair and arms crossed across her chest. She cocked her head and gave him a look, laughing softly as the corners of her lips quirked up into a little smile, and it calmed him down somewhat as he went over to her to take her hands in his and pull her up to her feet.

Éponine promptly slid her arms around his waist, body pressed flush against his, craning her neck to properly look up into his shining blue eyes. “Stop _worrying_ ,” she told him softly, standing on tiptoe to kiss the tip of his nose. “We’re going to be just fine.”

Enjolras managed a small smile at his wife’s words—God, his _wife_ , he doubted that he was ever going to get tired of that—and leaned down to press his lips to hers. “I love you,” he whispered once their lips had parted, faces mere inches from each other.

Éponine shot him a dimpled smile in return. “Love you too, baby cakes.”

She laughed when Enjolras made a face at the ridiculous pet name, lips stretching out into a toothy grin. “Should I stop calling you that?” she teased.

“I think I might actually prefer dork or nerd or _literally_ anything else as opposed to that,” Enjolras replied, lips pressed tightly together in distaste.

“Okay, then let’s get going, dork!” Éponine’s arms fell from around his waist and she straightened her hat, making sure her trench coat was on right before she grabbed her smaller suitcase, which was to be her carry-on baggage. Once Enjolras had pulled on his maroon peacoat, Éponine dramatically declared, “Come, my dear husband, adventure awaits!”

She had the biggest stupid grin on her face as she said the word ‘husband’, hardly able to wrap her head around the fact that she and Enjolras were fucking _married_ now, and she practically skipped her way over to him before prancing her way out of the bedroom, Enjolras close behind with his own little carry-on suitcase, the two of them making their way down the hallway to the living room, where Angela and Antoine and Victoire as well as Grantaire, Jehan, Combeferre, and Gavroche were waiting for them, having decided to come along and drop them off at the airport.

Grantaire sprung to his feet, Victoire riding piggyback, at the sight of Éponine and Enjolras entering the living room, a huge grin on his face. “Look who decided to show up.”

“’Jolras was panicking about whether or not we packed everything,” Éponine said with a shrug of her shoulders, reaching out for Victoire, who happily hopped down from Grantaire’s back when he stooped down to let her slide off his back, toddling over to her mother and jumping into her arms with a delighted squeal.

“Honey, he gets that from you,” Enjolras heard Angela say to Antoine, and his cheeks immediately flushed pink.

“Where’s our luggage?” Enjolras enquired in mild confusion, finding that they were nowhere to be seen.

“Already in your car,” Combeferre responded dutifully, getting to his feet as Gavroche did the same. “You ready to go?”

“Ready as we’ll ever be,” Éponine chirped, Victoire attempting to knock her mother’s newsboy cap off her head and giggling at the look on Éponine’s face as she grimaced and gently chided, “No, Vicky.”

“Well, let’s get going, then!” Jehan happily jumped to his feet and went over to take Grantaire’s hand in his, giggling at how Grantaire’s cheeks pinked at the gesture. “Come on, your car’s all ready for you!”

“Gavroche and I will take my car, R and Jehan are with you two!” Combeferre called over his shoulder, already on his way out the door after Angela and Antoine exited the apartment.

Éponine scrunched up her face as she looked up to stare straight into Grantaire’s eyes only to be met by a sly smirk. “How lovely.”

“Hey, you won’t be seeing us again for another two weeks,” Grantaire shot back, though he was grinning, and Éponine laughed and elbowed him as Victoire laughed, pudgy little arms looped around her mother’s neck.

“I think we should get going,” Enjolras cut in, taking Éponine’s free hand in his own. “Our flight takes off at six, after all.”

“I can’t believe you two get to fly first class,” Grantaire commented as they trudged out the door and into the cool autumn breeze, down the steps of the brownstone and onto the pavement.

“My parents insisted on paying for everything,” Enjolras said with a slight roll of his eyes as he took Victoire from Éponine and opened one of the car doors to buckle her into her car seat. “So I suppose we’ll be flying first class.”

“Well, I’m certainly not complaining, this is going to be the best honeymoon _ever_ ,” Éponine declared as she claimed shotgun, buckling herself in and taking off her newsboy cap to place it in her lap before turning around in her seat to beam at Victoire, who reached out towards her in response.

“Mommy!” she called happily once Enjolras had buckled her in and gone around the car to get into the driver’s seat while Jehan and Grantaire went into the backseat to sit beside Victoire, Grantaire in the middle of it all.

“Hey there, Peanut!” Éponine called back equally enthusiastically, reaching out and pointing a finger for Victoire to wrap her little hand around, laughing when the little girl did so and beamed at her, dimples in her rosy little cheeks.

“Are you _sure_ we’ve got everything?” Enjolras asked yet again, turning to look at his wife.

“ _Yes_ , ’Jolras, I’m sure.” Éponine gently pulled her hand away from Victoire to place it on top of her husband’s. “We’re going to be just fine.”

She resisted a snort at how she could hear Jehan audibly coo while Grantaire pretended to gag from behind them, rolling her eyes and turning her gaze back to the road when Enjolras began to drive.

They got caught in quite a bit of traffic along the way, Victoire falling asleep only ten minutes into the drive, so Éponine went to turn on some The 1975, singing along to the music with a little grin on her face. She was impossibly giddy, joy coursing through her veins all the while as she sang along to “Somebody Else”, and _God_ , if someone had told her three years ago that today she’d be on her way to the airport with Enjolras to take off for Paris for their honeymoon, she probably would have laughed derisively and thoroughly refuted it.

And yet here she was.

She was singing along to The 1975 while riding shotgun, Grantaire singing along with her in the backseat, with her husband (fuck, her _husband_!) beside her in the driver’s seat and their daughter peacefully asleep in her car seat, on their way to JFK Airport to leave for Paris. Jehan was just looking at Grantaire with a fond look on his face as the brunet sang mildly off-key to the music, dancing in place and grinning from ear to ear.

After a while, Grantaire’s singing died down and he leaned forward to rest his chin on the shoulder of Éponine’s seat. “So what are you and your hubby over here planning on doing in the city of love?” He drew out the word ‘love’ for all its worth, evoking an amused giggle from Éponine.

“God, the word hubby is so cheesy,” she muttered, looking down to hide the little smile on her face.

“And yet you’re guilty of having used it before,” Grantaire reminded her, an impish smirk on his face.

“Fuck off, it was _one_ time, and I was kind of tipsy then,” Éponine said rather defensively, scrunching up her face at Grantaire.

“‘Don’t swear around Vicky’,” Grantaire retorted, mimicking the way Éponine would so often say it.

“Shut up,” Éponine grumbled.

“No, but really, what are you two planning on doing once you’re there?” Jehan had the sense to redirect the conversation to what they had been previously talking about before Grantaire and Éponine promptly went off on a tangent.

“My parents made sure to book us the royal suite at the Hotel Plaza Athénée because they need to spend old money somehow when they’re not donating most of it to charity,” Enjolras said bluntly, somewhat facetious. “’Ponine and I kept saying no, but they refused to take no for an answer, so I suppose we’ll be staying in a mini palace for two weeks.”

“Hell yeah!” Éponine whooped, raising her hand for a high-five. When Enjolras didn’t respond after about six seconds, she murmured, “Hey, babe, don’t leave me hanging.”

Enjolras chuckled softly and high-fived her, smiling at Éponine’s triumphant “ _yesssssssssss._ ”

“Where are you two going while you’re there?” Jehan questioned, leaning forward slightly with his palms planted firmly on the seat.

“The usual tourist spots, probably,” Éponine replied. “The Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, the Musée d’Orsay, the Moulin Rouge… you know.”

“The Shakespeare and Company bookshop as well,” Enjolras supplied. “And Victor Hugo’s mansion. We’ll also go to the Champs-Élysées, and Notre-Dame Cathedral.”

“We’ll probably just make it spontaneous.”

“But I’ve created an itinerary for us…”

“Well, we can go with the itinerary half the time and let things be spontaneous for the other half, what do you say?”

“I can work with that.”

“God, you two are fucking adorable,” Grantaire commented as Éponine took Enjolras’ hand, lacing their fingers together and giving his hand an affectionate squeeze. He leaned forward and waggled his eyebrows, a shit-eating grin finding its way onto his face as he asked, “Are you sure you’ll want to go out at all while you’re in Paris?”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” Éponine asked, turning around to give him a sharp look.

“I’m just saying,” Grantaire went on, still in that irritatingly cryptic manner, “it’ll just be the two of you for two weeks. No friends, no parents, no kids. Just you two. You haven’t been alone together in so long, if you know what I mean…”

“Grantaire, what are you on—” Enjolras’ cheeks flushed scarlet as it hit him, what exactly it was Grantaire was talking about. “Oh, Jesus Christ.”

“I’m just saying!” Grantaire raised his hands in surrender when Jehan smacked him in the arm for his crudeness. “You two just got married a week ago and you’re going to be alone together for the first time in a few months, since Vicky won’t be there with you. And you know what usually happens a _lot_ during honeymoons…”

“Oh, goddamn it, R, just shut the fuck up, _please_ ,” Éponine told him, blushing fiercely at his implications. Fuck, they weren’t even implications anymore, he was just flat-out stating that she and Enjolras were going to be unable to leave the hotel due to having sex all the time.

Grantaire clicked his tongue and leaned back, a satisfied smirk on his face. “Oh, well, suit yourself.”

“Next time you ask us about our sex life, I’m going to rip off your testicles,” Éponine threatened in a dangerously calm manner, narrowing her eyes at Grantaire and giving her a look.

“Is that really the example you want to be setting for your daughter, Ep?” Grantaire raised his eyebrows sceptically, bracing himself for the worst as Éponine slowly turned around, a dangerous glint in her dark eyes.

“How _dare_ you use my own daughter against me?!” she very nearly shouted, only keeping herself from doing so due to the fact that Victoire was still very much asleep, and she was just about to reach out and smack Grantaire in the shoulder before Enjolras  placed a hand on her thigh, rubbing it gently.

“Deep breaths,” he murmured to her. “In, out. There we go.”

“Be glad you still have working baby-making bits, R,” Éponine muttered as she settled back down in her seat, staring out the window.

Grantaire flashed Enjolras a grin through the rearview mirror. “Thanks, Enjy. Whatever can I do to return the favour?”

“Please never ask about my and Éponine’s sex life again,” Enjolras replied bluntly, eyes ahead on the road.

Grantaire scrunched up his face slightly. “Ugh, fair enough.”

They were just about seven minutes away from the airport when Victoire woke up, big brown eyes blinking drowsily as she looked around at her surroundings from the constraints of her car seat. Her eyes soon landed on Éponine up front, riding shotgun, and she called out sleepily, “Where we going, Mommy?”

“Oh!” Éponine turned around in her seat upon hearing the sound of her daughter’s sleepy voice. “Hi, Vicky. We’re, uh…” How the fuck was she supposed to explain to a two-year-old that she and Enjolras were going to be all the way across the Atlantic for two goddamn weeks without inducing a meltdown, which was already inevitable anyway, given how they were going to have to part with her in just an hour or so? “We’re almost at the airport.”

Victoire jutted out her bottom lip, what seemed to be a look of contemplation on her face. “Air-port?”

“Yeah, Peanut.” Éponine mustered a faint smile. “We’re going to the airport.”

Victoire said nothing else on the matter, simply clutching her Elmo doll and looking out the window as they came to a stop in the drop-off area of the terminal in front of Enjolras’ parents’ car and Combeferre’s. Enjolras turned around in his seat, eyes widening to find that Victoire was awake, and without another word, he unbuckled his seatbelt to get out of the car, going over to take Victoire out of her car seat.

Once Enjolras had gotten Victoire out of the car, Éponine turned around to reach over and smack Grantaire’s cheek. “Wake up, fuckwad!” she hissed. “We’re here!”

“Hngh.” Grantaire begrudgingly awoke, moaning his displeasure as he pulled a petulant face, reluctantly lifting his head off Jehan’s shoulder. “Do I have to?”

“Yes, you won’t be seeing ’Jolras and me for two weeks after this,” Éponine responded frankly. “Come on. Let’s go.”

Jehan got up without complaint, though Grantaire was still grumbling as he got out of the car, and once they were all standing before the entrance to the terminal, Jehan cheerfully volunteered to go park Éponine and Enjolras’ car for them, Combeferre having gone to park his own just as Antoine had once they had unloaded the newlyweds’ luggage. Angela turned to her son and beamed. “You want to go inside and get yourselves checked in?”

“Oh, we checked in online,” Éponine replied. “But yeah, let’s go inside. We gotta do something about these suitcases.”

* * *

“It’s almost time to go in,” Enjolras remarked quietly, checking his watch while Éponine stood by him, Victoire in her arms.

They were all standing about in front of the entrance to the terminal, Éponine and Enjolras both desperately wracking their minds for ways to gently break the news to their daughter that they would be going away for two weeks. Antoine and Angela were standing side by side, arms around each other’s shoulders, while Grantaire stood by Jehan and Gavroche, Combeferre a little off to the side, engrossed in texting someone on his phone. As Éponine gazed at Victoire, the little girl oblivious while playing happily with her mother’s hair, she bit her lip and blinked back the tears welling up in her eyes at the thought of having to part with her dear daughter for two weeks.

“Looks like this is it, then,” she murmured, gaze still fixed on Victoire. “We’re going to have to go through soon.”

She bounced Victoire in her arms, prompting the little girl to look up and smile happily at her mother. “Mommy!”

“Mommy and Daddy have to go, Peanut,” Éponine whispered to Victoire, her voice cracking slightly as she uttered that affectionate nickname she had had for her daughter ever since she laid eyes on that first sonogram almost three years ago.

Victoire frowned, confused. “Where?”

Éponine mustered a little smile. “I’m going to be in Paris with your daddy for a while, Vicky. You’re going to stay with Nana and Papa while we’re not here.”

If anything, Victoire looked even more baffled, and Éponine just couldn’t handle seeing that look of innocent bewilderment on her darling daughter’s face, instantly handing her over to Enjolras and reaching up to rapidly wipe her tears away with the sleeve of her trench coat before they had the chance to fall.

“We’ll call you every day,” Enjolras promised, holding Victoire’s gaze. “You’ll still see us, even if it’s just through a screen. You’re going to be staying with Nana and Papa and Anneliese for some time, while Mommy and I are away. Uncle R will still be with you.”

“You’re gosh-darn right I will,” Grantaire called.

“Mommy and I have to go now, Peanut,” Enjolras told her softly, brushing her blonde bangs aside and pressing a kiss to her little forehead. “But you’ll see us again, I promise.”

Victoire simply frowned even more, evidently still confused, and Enjolras put her down on solid ground, watching as she toddled her way to Éponine before turning to his own parents.

“I guess ’Ponine and I will be leaving now,” he said with a sheepish shrug of his shoulders.

Angela reached out to pull her son into a hug, embracing him tightly before letting go of him, hands placed firmly on his shoulders. “You treat your girl right in Paris, okay?”

“Of course I will, Mother,” Enjolras assured her.

He turned to Antoine, embracing him as well, and once they had let go of each other, Antoine told him, “Have fun, Gabriel.”

“I will. We’ll Skype every night.” He didn’t think he and Éponine would be able to go a day without seeing their daughter’s face at least once, even if it was through a screen.

“We’ll see you then,” Antoine said, a little smile on his face.

Enjolras sighed and stepped back to look back and forth between both of his parents, asking apprehensively, “Victoire will be all right, right?”

“Of course she will!” Angela replied breezily. “She’s our granddaughter! We can’t wait to spoil her rotten.”

Enjolras managed a slight smile. “Not too much, I hope.”

“Oh, we know where to draw the line, you don’t need to worry,” Angela amended. “At any rate, Victoire will be in good hands.”

Meanwhile, Éponine was conversing with Gavroche, holding Victoire’s hand as she did so. “So I guess I’m leaving,” she started awkwardly, biting her lip. “See you in two weeks, I guess.”

“Will you bring back something for me?” Gavroche asked, and as she looked up to stare incredulously into those mischievous blue eyes of his, she could catch a fleeting glimpse of that impish little boy her brother had once been and still had a little bit of in him.

Éponine smacked him in the arm, narrowing her eyes at him and scowling. “If you ask, then no, I won’t.”

“I’m kidding!” Gavroche backtracked, raising his hands in surrender. “Though I’m sure some of the others would want some souvenirs…” He then let out a cough that sounded suspiciously like “Azelma”, which Éponine didn’t fail to pick up on, and she shook her head, a corner of her mouth turning up in a lopsided smile of amusement.

“Sucks that Zel can’t be here,” she mumbled, gazing wistfully off into the distance—or, more precisely, at what was beyond the gate. It was a shame how Azelma had a class going on at that very moment, leading to her being unable to bid her sister farewell at the airport.

“Hey, at least you saw her yesterday,” Gavroche reminded Éponine in his own attempt at consolation. Suffice to say, he wasn’t very good at it.

Éponine turned her gaze back to Gavroche to give him a look. “Not the same.”

“Well, she’ll be here to come pick you and Enj up when you come back in two weeks,” Gavroche tried again. “I’ll make sure of that.”

“Aww, really?” Éponine flashed Gavroche a big, cheesy grin, resulting in him rolling his eyes at his older sister. “Thanks, that’d mean a lot. But you don’t have to if it really conflicts with her schedule.” Back when Azelma first announced her desire to become a nurse practitioner at the tender age of fifteen, Éponine had sworn that she was going to live to see her little sister become just that. She didn’t want something as silly as an airport reunion to hinder Azelma’s chances.

“Yeah, sure.” Gavroche’s gaze drifted down to his niece, who was currently clinging to her mother’s legs and singing softly to herself. “You sure you’ll be okay?”

Éponine smiled. “Of course I will. I can take care of myself just fine, Gav.” She spread her arms out to invite her brother into a hug, burying her face in his shoulder and sighing deeply when he stepped in and put his arms around her, hugging her tight.

“Have fun,” Gavroche told her with a little smile, almost a grin, once he had pulled away, taking a single step back.

Éponine grinned at him. Her Cheshire smile was a little too implicative for Gavroche’s liking. “Oh, I will.”

Instantly picking up on what exactly Éponine was referring to, Gavroche made a face, letting out a little noise of disgust. “Oh, my God, you’re fucking gross.”

“Don’t swear around Vicky. Also, I just got married a week ago to the love of my life who also happens to be hella sexy, what did you possibly expect?” Éponine cackled at the revolted look on her brother’s face, her grin growing ever wider.

“Still gross.” Gavroche made a face, frowning and wrinkling his nose, as he turned his gaze back to Victoire. Éponine followed his gaze, looking down at her daughter and feeling an ache in her chest at the thought of having to part with her, albeit temporarily, soon.

Stooping down, Éponine hoisted Victoire up into her arms, bouncing her up and down as she looked back and forth between her brother and her daughter. “You wanna go with Uncle Gav?” she asked brightly, looking at her and trying to catch her gaze.

Victoire simply looked up and looked at her uncle, who had one eyebrow raised, and she laughed and nodded, reaching out towards him. Gavroche took that as his cue to take Victoire into his arms, bouncing her up and down and laughing when she kissed her hand and proceeded to press her palm against his cheek.

Éponine smiled to herself at the sight before she went over to Grantaire, who was standing to the side as Jehan exchanged rather dramatic farewells with Enjolras, the ginger-haired man seeming to have prepared a whole speech. Éponine couldn’t help but giggle to herself at the strained smile on her husband’s face, leaving him to just grin and bear it as she walked up to Grantaire.

“Poor Enjy looks like he wants to die,” Grantaire commented once he sensed Éponine standing beside him.

“Yeah, no thanks to your boyfriend,” Éponine replied faux-snippily. “Why didn’t you stop Jehan from making a whole-ass speech in the first place?”

“I wanted to see Enj squirm.” Grantaire smirked at the way Enjolras was biting his lip, Jehan still rambling on and on about all the places he _had_ to take Éponine to in the city of _love_ , entirely oblivious to how Enjolras looked as if he wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

Éponine rolled her eyes, resisting the urge to smile at Grantaire’s words. “God, you’re useless.”

Grantaire turned so he would be facing her, a fond little smile on his lips as his eyes found Éponine’s. “I’m gonna miss you,” he told her quietly, his words, for once, genuine.

Éponine tilted her head and smiled up at him in return. “I’m going to miss you too,” she responded, voice soft, and she stood on tiptoe to throw her arms around Grantaire’s neck and pull him into a tight hug, burying her face in his collarbone as he wrapped his arms tight around her waist, pulling her close.

They stayed locked in a tight embrace for a good several moments before Éponine pulled away, patting Grantaire’s shoulder. “Between you and me? ’Jolras and I would probably leave Vicky with you if his parents weren’t able to do it.”

The smile on Grantaire’s face was quick to turn smug. “Well, duh. I think I’ll drive upstate sometimes to go see her at Enjy’s parents’ place.”

Éponine rolled her eyes, though she was grinning. “You go do that. Go distract Jehan, I’ll get ’Jolras.”

Grantaire saluted Éponine before going off to drag Jehan away from Enjolras, Éponine not far behind, and Enjolras startled slightly when he felt Éponine put her arms around his waist from behind, turning his head to find her smiling tenderly up at him, cheek resting against his arm.

“Hey,” she murmured.

Enjolras smiled. “Hi.”

He lifted his arm and gestured for her to come around so he could put his arm around her shoulders, so she did just that just as Combeferre came up to them, having just finished cleaning the lenses of his glasses. He was pushing said specs up the bridge of his nose as he approached the couple.

“How are you two feeling?” he asked softly.

“Excited. Nervous. Sad,” Éponine replied.

Combeferre’s brow creased at that last statement. “Sad? How so?”

“She’s got separation anxiety,” Enjolras explained matter-of-factly, Éponine promptly elbowing him in the stomach when he did so.

“Shut up, so do you,” Éponine huffed in response.

“But you’ll Skype with Victoire every night, won’t you?” Combeferre questioned.

“We’ll try,” Éponine said. “That is, if we aren’t… otherwise engaged.” She looked up at Enjolras to give him a shit-eating grin, laughing at the way he turned scarlet in an instant before looking back at Combeferre. “If you know what I mean.”

“All right, I’m going to walk away now…” Combeferre trailed off as he gave the both of them a mildly disturbed look before walking off to join Gavroche and Victoire, leaving the newlyweds standing alone together.

Enjolras stole a glance at his watch. “We have about six minutes left before we have to go inside, if we don’t want to run all the way to the gate.”

Éponine sighed and rested her head against his shoulder as Enjolras hugged her closer to him, turning his head to press a soft kiss to the top of his wife’s head. “Think it’s about time to say goodbye?” she asked quietly upon feeling his lips brushing the top of her head.

“Yeah,” Enjolras mumbled. “Come on.”

They walked up to Antoine and Angela, soon joined by Gavroche, Combeferre, and Victoire, and Jehan and Grantaire soon returned from buying themselves a pack of gummy bears to find the rest of them all gathered at the entrance to the terminal.

“Well, I guess it’s time for us to go,” Éponine told them, mustering a wan smile.

Angela stepped forward to embrace her daughter-in-law in a tight hug, which Éponine was rather caught off-guard by before she returned it. “Stay safe, all right?” Angela whispered into Éponine’s ear before letting go of her and taking a step back. “Make sure Gabriel treats you right.”

Éponine laughed softly. “He always does. You don’t have to worry about a thing.”

Enjolras took a look at Victoire in Gavroche’s arms and the little girl instantly started reaching towards him the moment she saw him looking at her, a bright smile on her face. A smile identical to her father’s. “Daddy!”

Enjolras bit his lip and a corner of his mouth turned up in a crooked smile as he took his daughter into his arms, bouncing her gently. “Mommy and I have to go now, Victoire,” he told her quietly, pressing a kiss to her little forehead.

Éponine turned just in time to see Enjolras gently bouncing Victoire in his arms, talking to her and softly kissing her forehead. Sighing, Éponine made her way over to them and wrapped her arms around Enjolras, resting her head on his shoulder as she looked at Victoire, watching how the little girl’s dark eyes lit up at the sight of her mother.

“Mommy!” Victoire exclaimed in delight, reaching for Éponine. It made Éponine’s heart ache.

Enjolras passed their daughter over to Éponine and she instantly leaned in to kiss Victoire’s forehead, sighing against her soft skin. “Mommy has to go, Vicky,” she whispered.

Victoire looked up with a somewhat perplexed look in her eyes before she reached up to grab Éponine’s face and lean forward to kiss the tip of her mother’s nose, evoking a teary-eyed laugh from Éponine. She stayed like that for a while, just holding Victoire tight without saying a word, before Grantaire came over after Éponine silently beckoned him towards herself and took Victoire into his arms.

Éponine sighed as she watched Victoire quickly become distracted by the bicycle pattern on Grantaire’s T-shirt and she turned her head to look up at Enjolras, her hand slipping into his, fingers intertwined, as she grabbed her suitcase. Enjolras squeezed her hand comfortingly.

“We’ll see you in two weeks,” Enjolras told his parents, Combeferre, Gavroche, Jehan, and Grantaire after seeing that look in Éponine’s eyes, the look she got whenever she came close to crying but was still desperately trying to keep it all together.

Angela smiled at him, wiping at her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater. “Have fun.”

Enjolras almost had to drag Éponine away as they went to stand in line, dragging their little carry-on suitcases behind them, and they had almost gone through by the time they heard Victoire call out in confusion, “Mommy? Mommy! Daddy!” Several dreadful moments passed before the silence was broken by the unmistakable sound of the toddler bursting into heartbreaking sobs, wailing, “Mommy, Mommy, Mommy!”

It proved to be too much for Éponine and she started crying uncontrollably as well, nearly collapsing against Enjolras’ chest and weeping into his shirt. He was quick to put his arms around her, holding her tight as she wept, clinging to him like a lifeline. They were beginning to attract stares, but Enjolras promptly ignored them in favour of stroking his wife’s hair and kissing the top of her head, whispering to her that it would all be all right.

“Let it all out, love,” he murmured to her as she wept into his chest. “I’m here.”

* * *

Éponine had regained much of her good mood by the time they were seated in first class. Not all of it, but much, and for now, that was enough.

Though she had initially resented the idea of not having a window seat, she decided that it would be worth it since this way, in one of the two middle seats, Enjolras would be seated adjacent to her, and they seemed to be the only two first-class passengers on that flight. If Enjolras had had his way, he probably would have talked the airline staff into upgrading two other passengers to first class. He had never liked such self-indulgence, usually preferring to keep things simple. Well, he supposed that was what happened when he let his parents pay for everything.

Éponine had her arm resting up on the armrest between her and Enjolras’ seats, their hands clasped tight, and she strained to toss her feet up on the ottoman across from her seat, having to slide down in her seat slightly to do so. The first class cabin consisted of a single row of four seats, the two window seats empty, and the peppy first-class flight attendant had just left to let them all get settled in.

“God, this is so fucking great,” Éponine sighed. Enjolras stifled a laugh at her awkward position, feet just barely propped up on the ottoman across from her seat, in which she was slumped. “Honeymoons are great. I love you, ’Jolras. Ugh. This is amazing.”

“I love you, too,” Enjolras responded, a soft little smile on his face at the sight of her so thoroughly enjoying herself.

The flight attendant soon came back with a bright smile on her face. “Would you like a drink to start the flight?” She had a lovely French lilt, her voice husky and pleasant, and her raven hair was up in an elegant chignon, her delicate Asian features on full display and a smattering of freckles sprinkled across her nose.

Éponine immediately straightened up, nodding. “Champagne, please.”

“And for you, Monsieur?” the flight attendant asked, turning to Enjolras.

“Champagne as well, please,” he replied, giving the flight attendant a polite smile.

“Your champagne will be with you in a moment.” With that, the flight attendant left the cabin to fetch their champagne, and Éponine sighed contentedly, leaning back in her seat and closing her eyes as a pleased grin played at her lips, humming in delight.

Enjolras cracked a small smile, observing out loud, “You’re enjoying yourself.”

“Mmm, hell fucking yeah, I am,” Éponine said, relaxing into the plush seat. “We’re in fucking first class, we’re going to _Paris_ , and we’re _married_. This is the _dream_.”

The flight attendant soon returned with a silver tray with two glasses of bubbling champagne atop it as well as two packages of breadsticks, carefully setting the tray down on the armrest between the two seats. Éponine grabbed her glass and eagerly took a sip, sighing at the sensation of the champagne sliding down her throat.

“Oh, God, this is _amazing_ ,” she mumbled in delight. “Thank you…” She trailed off, looking up at the flight attendant. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name,” she said apologetically, placing her glass of champagne back on the tray.

“Oh, Victoria,” the flight attendant introduced herself with a smile.

Enjolras bit his lip and looked over at Éponine, eyebrows raised almost unnoticeably and eyes widening in slight alarm at the sight of his wife’s eyes beginning to grow glassy. Victoria the flight attendant looked all too confused at Éponine’s reaction, asking worriedly, “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, you didn’t,” Enjolras quickly reassured her. “Your name… your name is just similar to our daughter’s, that’s all. Her name is Victoire.”

Éponine rapidly blinked away her tears, reaching up to wipe them away with the sleeve of her cable-knit sweater. “I miss her already,” she mumbled, slumping down in her seat.

“I know, love.” Enjolras reached for her hand and laced his fingers through hers, giving her hand a comforting squeeze. “So do I.”

Victoria shifted from one foot to the other, awkward as she told them, “I’ll go fetch you your pyjamas and your amenity kits.”

“Thank you,” Éponine called feebly after her, picking up her champagne and taking another sip. She sighed as she set it back down on the tray. “I miss Vicky.”

“I do too, my love,” Enjolras murmured, giving her hand another squeeze. “But let’s focus on the good things for now. We’re going on our honeymoon, to _Paris_ , and we’ll still see Victoire every night when we Skype with her and my parents.”

Éponine mustered a sly little grin. “That is, if we aren’t… busy. If you catch my drift.”

Enjolras’ cheeks were quick to flush red. “Jesus Christ, ’Ponine…”

“Hey! We’re married now, and you know I’m a horny motherfucker,” Éponine stated, taking her glass of champagne by its stem and taking another sip.

Enjolras let out a gruff laugh as he did the same with his own champagne glass, hand still clasped tight with Éponine’s as he mumbled mostly to himself, “Technically _I’m_ the motherfucker.”

Éponine cackled and threw her head back, laughing madly as she clinked her glass against her husband’s. “That’s the spirit! Damn, I’m a great influence.”

“You’re a terrible influence,” Enjolras immediately corrected her, though he was laughing as he sipped his champagne, watching as Éponine downed the rest of her own champagne in one gulp, burping unceremoniously once the liquid slid down her throat and making herself comfortable in her seat.

Victoria soon returned with their pyjamas and amenity kits, informing them that they were to be beginning pushback soon and it would be better if they changed into their pyjamas right now. Without another word, Éponine got up and marched into the lavatory with her pyjamas in hand. Enjolras couldn’t help but smile when she came back out, clad in those pyjamas and grinning at him as she plopped back down into her seat.

“Go on, I’ll be waiting,” she told him softly, leaning over the armrest between them to press a tender kiss to his cheek.

It wasn’t long until after Enjolras returned dressed in his airline-provided pyjamas that the plane began pushback mere moments after they buckled themselves in, and Éponine spaced out all through the airline’s safety video as it was being screened and up until the plane was cleared for takeoff, coming back to earth, ironically enough, only when the plane started takeoff, steadily gaining speed until it left the ground.

Once they were up in the air, Éponine called Victoria over to graciously ask for more champagne for her and Enjolras, which came to them on another silver platter, to her utmost delight. Éponine gulped it all down instantly, leading Enjolras to wonder if she was on a personal quest to get tipsy. At any rate, it seemed to be working, with how she ordered more alcohol, this time requesting bordeaux wine with yet another glass of champagne. Victoria gave them both an odd look but complied nonetheless, exiting the cabin and soon returning with what Éponine asked for, evoking a squeal of delight from her.

“I’m sorry for being so demanding,” Éponine apologised, though that didn’t keep her from grabbing the wine and taking a huge gulp of it.

“Oh, it’s no problem at all,” Victoria assured her, smiling.

“You’ll have to excuse my wife,” Enjolras told the flight attendant sheepishly, resisting a massive dorky grin at being able to say the words “my wife” out loud.

Éponine beamed—fuck, she was never going to get tired of Enjolras declaring her his wife with such pride in his voice—and grabbed his wrist before she leaned in closer to Victoria conspiratorially, giddily telling her in a loud whisper, “We’re going on our honeymoon, we just got married!”

Victoria smiled, telling them warmly, “Well, congratulations. I hope you will have a good time in Paris.”

“We hope so too,” Éponine proclaimed, gulping down her wine and sighing contentedly once she set the empty glass back down on the tray.

Time seemed to speed by—in the next two hours, they gorged themselves on a seven-course meal in the air before Victoria offered to turn their seats into beds and Éponine finally collapsed onto the mattress pad fitted into her seat, sighing delightedly at the incredibly soft feeling and wrapping herself up in the blankets provided to them by the airline. If heaven was a first class airplane cabin, this would be it.

She raised the little panel along the exposed side of her seat and drew the curtains back as Enjolras did the same so they’d have total privacy, the lights in the cabin having dimmed. She turned toward him and sighed, almost deliriously happy.

She leaned over the little wall dividing their seats to press a kiss to her husband’s cheek. “Hello, handsome,” she purred in an attempt to be seductive, only to burst into a giggle fit directly after as Enjolras smiled fondly and shook his head.

“I love you,” he murmured, reaching up to trace her jaw with his thumb as he leaned in to kiss her forehead.

Éponine giggled, eyes closing in absolute bliss as she felt Enjolras’ lips brush her forehead. “I love you, too.”

Leaning over the wall dividing them, Éponine asked in a whisper, “So what time are we going to land?”

“We’re going to land when it’s about eight in the morning over there, give or take,” Enjolras replied. “Someone from the hotel is going to greet us at the airport and we’ll be chauffeured there.”

“Ooh, so we’re really going all out, aren’t we?” Éponine leaned further over the little wall, nearly half of her body on Enjolras’ side.

Enjolras shrugged and nodded. “I feel guilty for spending so much money on ourselves,” he confided quietly.

“Hey, don’t be.” Éponine reached up to cup his jaw in her small hand, gently caressing his cheek. “It’s okay to focus on yourself and have fun sometimes. It doesn’t erase all the great things you’ve done for the people.”

Enjolras cracked a little smile. “Yes, I guess so.” He closed his eyes when Éponine leaned in to press her lips to his in a chaste kiss, soon pulling away and giving him a little smile, that tender little smile she had reserved just for him, her eyes softening as she gazed at him. He looked down into his lap, flustered, before looking back up, a goofy little smile playing at his lips. “Do you think it would be too cramped if you lie here with me?”

Éponine giggled. “Only one way to find out.”

Within moments, she had scrambled over the wall dividing their seats and they were both smushed together as they lay down, Éponine practically on top of Enjolras. She turned her head to gaze up at him with a little smile, leaning up to press a little kiss to his cheek before whispering, “Hi.”

Enjolras closed his eyes and smiled. “Hi.”

* * *

The sun was just beginning to rise by the time they had gone through customs and fetched their luggage, a cheerful woman from the hotel, Alicia, having greeted them there. They were strolling leisurely out of the airport, escorted by Alicia to the fancy car awaiting them, and Éponine and Enjolras both insisted upon helping the chauffeur load their luggage into the trunk of the car, to help ease his workload, if only a little bit. Soon enough, they were whizzing through the Paris streets, admiring their surroundings through the windows.

“It’s gorgeous,” Éponine murmured in awe, face practically glued to the window as her eyes darted about, amazed at the sights Paris had to provide.

“You chose it for us,” Enjolras reminded her softly, giving her hand a squeeze.

Éponine tore her gaze away from the buildings racing by to look at her husband, grinning at him. “Glad I did, aren’t you, pretty boy?”

Enjolras laughed and nodded, reaching up with his free hand to cup her cheek and lean in for a tender kiss. “Why, yes, I am.”

Upon landing, they had texted the Amis and his parents to inform them that they had arrived in the city, though Enjolras didn’t think they would get to said texts until later on, it being two in the morning back in New York.

Éponine returned to fawning over the sights of the city all up until they reached the hotel, which was when she let out a delighted squeal at the sight of its luxurious exterior, never doubting for a second that the interior was equally as lavish, if not more so. The chauffeur got out to open the door for them, Éponine thanking him profusely as she does so, Enjolras following soon after and handing the chauffeur a heavy tip. She stood there awestruck before the building, clutching the handles of her suitcases as she stared up at the hotel in complete rapture, rooted to the spot. It was only when a hotel porter came down to help them with their luggage and Enjolras nudged her gently to alert her of the porter’s presence did she snap out of it.

Once they had placed their luggage on the cart the porter wheeled down towards them, Éponine looped her arm through Enjolras’ and followed the porter into the hotel lobby, Éponine with a spring in her step as they made their way up to the counter to get themselves checked in.

Her eyes grew to the size of saucers in sheer surprise when Enjolras opened his mouth and perfect French came flowing out.

As she tried her best not to look as if she was gawking at him while he got themselves checked in, Éponine made a mental note to pounce on him about him being seemingly fluent in French later, rocking back and forth on the soles of her feet and attempting not to appear so fidgety as she did so. Thankfully enough, checking in wasn’t too long of a process, and the hotel porter who had come to help them with their luggage—Timothée, his name was—was soon escorting them to the elevators, dutifully pushing the cart on which their luggage was along.

By the time they were standing in the foyer of their suite, Éponine felt as if she was on the verge of fainting.

“Your parents seriously paid for all of this?” she whispered to Enjolras, jaw hanging open.

Enjolras shrugged, sheepish. “This is probably standard for them, if I’m going to be honest.”

Antique French regency-style furnishings were expertly arranged all throughout the opulent suite, elaborate chandeliers hanging from the high gilded ceilings and morning sunlight filling the whole place as it streamed in through the enormous windows. The heavy curtains were drawn back, the material of the fabrics in the room made from silk, damask, and gold-thread embroidery, and Éponine glimpsed a window with a glorious view of the Eiffel Tower embellished with a silver frame, almost as if it was displaying a work of art. Now that she thought about it, it really was.

Timothée had long since finished unloading their luggage behind them and was now pulling the cart out of the suite. “Enjoy your stay!” he called out.

Enjolras turned around to give him a grateful smile, handing him a wad of cash before he exchanged a few words with the porter in French, and then Timothée was gone, leaving the newlyweds alone in what was to be their home for the next two weeks.

Éponine was still gaping at the place—and she hadn’t even seen all of it yet—when Enjolras snuck up on her from behind and abruptly wrapped his arms around her waist, drawing a shriek of startled laughter from her. “Enjolras! Don’t _do_ that!” she yelped, turning around to smack his chest.

He simply grinned as she lightly beat at his chest before resting her forehead against it, letting out a deep sigh when she felt his lips press into her hair.

“So what do you think?” he asked softly.

“I didn’t know you spoke French,” Éponine murmured, wrapping her arms around his waist and hugging him tight.

Spots of pink had bloomed in Enjolras’ cheeks by the time Éponine looked up at him, gazing into his eyes with a little smile on her face. “I know enough to hold a basic conversation,” he said, blushing hard. “My grandparents on both sides are French, and my mother spoke French nearly as much as she spoke English to me while I was growing up. We have relatives here in France as well, so I picked up some French from them whenever we visited them when I was a child.”

Éponine laughed and stood up on tiptoe to kiss his nose. “And just when I was starting to think my husband couldn’t possibly get any sexier,” she teased, her laughter turning into a full-on cackle when Enjolras blushed even harder at her blunt proclamation.

“You’re impossible.”

“You love me.”

Enjolras bowed his head and smiled to himself, giddy as could be, before he looked back into his wife’s eyes and leaned in to press his lips to hers in a soft kiss, smiling at the way she sighed against his mouth and readily kissed him back. Her lips were soft, warm, inviting—he could kiss her forever and never get tired of it. When they broke apart, Éponine smiled up at him, eyes bright and shining, full of nothing but absolute love. Enjolras couldn’t help but smile back, his heart on the verge of bursting out of his chest.

“I do love you,” he whispered. “So much. More than words can say.”

Éponine’s cheeks flushed pink and she looked down, avoiding his gaze as she grinned goofily to herself. “I love you, too,” she murmured.

They stayed like that for a while, just standing there all wrapped up in each other’s arms, before Enjolras cleared his throat and pressed a lingering kiss to the top of Éponine’s head. “Should we get settled in now?” he asked her, his voice soft as could be.

She looked up at him, biting her lip as the corners of her mouth turned up into a little smile. “Come on.”

The suite was far grander than Éponine had originally expected it to be—the place contained four bedrooms, each with its own accompanying bathroom, two drawing rooms, an office, a dining room, and a kitchen, as well as a baby grand piano by a window in one of the drawing rooms; she found a bottle of champagne, two accompanying champagne glasses, and a basket of strawberries awaiting them in the other drawing room. As she explored the suite, she found that there was a steam room and a Jacuzzi as well, along with a total of nine flat-screen televisions—she counted. Eventually, she and Enjolras found their ways into the master bedroom, done in tasteful shades of purple and gold, and once they had put their luggage aside, Éponine kicked off her boots, threw off her coat, and took a running start before throwing herself onto the bed, laughing as she made herself comfortable among the sheets.

“So what’s on the schedule for today, chief?” Éponine called out, motionless as she watched him take his shoes off and set them neatly aside at the foot of the bed.

“Stay here and recharge after our flight and try to get rid of any possible jet lag,” Enjolras replied simply, taking off his coat and climbing up onto the bed to lie beside her. Once he was lying on his side right next to his wife, he added quietly, “Among other things.”

Éponine grinned, sly and lascivious, and reached out to toy with the collar of his shirt, murmuring, “What kind of other things?”

Enjolras shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “You know. Just things.” He reached to take her hand in his, lacing their fingers together before he brought her hand to his lips to press a tender kiss to her knuckles. “Do _you_ speak French by any chance, love?”

Éponine let out a dry laugh. “God, no. I only know ‘bonjour’ and ‘au revoir’ and ‘merci’ and also ‘oui, oui, baguette’.” She grinned when Enjolras rolled his eyes at that last phrase, giggling. “Now, if we had chosen Spain or any other country that has Spanish as their official language for our honeymoon destination, I’d be brilliant.”

Enjolras raised his eyebrows. “You speak Spanish?”

Éponine smiled coyly at him. “A little bit. I know enough to get by.” After a while, she mused, “See, I should probably know French as well, since it’s also a language spoken in Morocco, and as you know, I’m part Moroccan from my mom’s side of the family, but she was raised speaking Spanish. And also a little bit of Arabic, though I never really picked that up.”

“Could you say something in Spanish for me?” Enjolras asked, voice soft. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, obviously.”

Éponine laughed, informing him frankly, “ _Eres un ganso._ ”

Enjolras furrowed his brow, perplexed. “Did you just make fun of me?”

“I just called you a dork, but in _Spanish_ ,” Éponine replied, placing special emphasis on that last word for dramatic effect and cackling at the way Enjolras sighed and rolled his eyes as he smiled to himself.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” he told her, his blue eyes finding her brown once again. “I love you.”

Éponine smiled and bowed her head before she looked back up into his eyes as silence fell upon them both. God, she could get lost forever in his eyes. “ _Te amo,_ ” she murmured at last, her voice having gone soft. “ _Eres el mundo para mí._ ”

Enjolras’ breath hitched in his throat at the way Éponine said the words, asking quietly, “What does that mean?”

Éponine smiled at him, shy, rather hesitant. “I love you,” she repeated, her voice barely reaching above a whisper. “You’re the world to me.”

“I love you, too,” Enjolras responded without any hesitation or doubt, and he felt like his heart could burst when Éponine’s shy smile morphed into a full-on grin, dimpled and bright-eyed. “ _Je t’aime tellement, ma chérie._ ”

Éponine giggled, blushing scarlet. “Yeah, French sounds so much sexier than Spanish does.”

“I don’t know,” Enjolras contradicted. “Spanish sounds sexier to me.” He pretended to think about it for a few moments before he playfully mused, “Then again, any words that come out of my lovely wife’s mouth is automatically sexy.”

Éponine smacked him in the arm and bowed her head, blushing harder. “Shut the fuck up, you’re embarrassing.”

“I would have married you anywhere,” Enjolras told her candidly. “If I had to, I would have married you in a dumpster in a heartbeat.”

Despite her state of absolute embarrassment at how unabashedly honest Enjolras was being, Éponine smiled. “Thanks, pretty boy. Same here.”

After another stretch of silence, Éponine murmured, “I know one more phrase in French, but I don’t know what it means.”

Enjolras raised his eyebrows yet again. “Tell me what it is, then.”

“ _Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?_ ” Éponine recited, slowly, cautiously, making sure she was properly pronouncing every word. Enjolras’ cheeks grew warm at the way she said it, so innocently endearing due to her cluelessness when it came to the implications of the phrase.

“‘Do you want to sleep with me tonight?’” he translated for her. Éponine’s lips immediately stretched out into a shit-eating grin.

“I want to sleep with you right now, actually, if that’s what you’re implying,” she replied brazenly.

“No, that’s what the phrase means,” Enjolras clarified, cheeks burning. “ _Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir_. It means ‘do you want to sleep with me tonight’.”

“I mean, right now would be preferable, but if you want to wait until tonight, then sure,” Éponine told him, still with that shit-eating grin on her face.

She let out a squeal of delight when he rolled on top of her, pinning her to the bed and his face mere inches from hers. Enjolras smirked down at her, blue eyes rapidly darkening at the breathless look on his wife’s face as he murmured to her, “Well, we’ll have to find some way to spend the rest of today if we’re going to stay in here, won’t we?”

* * *

Éponine had forgotten at this point how she initially ended up on the baby grand, but hey, she wasn’t going to complain, not when she was currently lying on top of the piano with her husband’s face buried firmly between her thighs as he furiously ate her out, making her moan in a way she hadn’t in God only knew how long.

Her moans echoed throughout the suite as Enjolras’ tongue danced between her legs, flicking insistently at that little pearl of nerves, his mouth clamped over her clit and passionately sucking it. Éponine’s eyes were squeezed shut and her hands gripped the edges of the piano, knuckles whitening from the tightness of her grasp, her moans and sighs steadily increasing in volume and turning into shouts and squeals at the feeling of Enjolras’ insistent mouth on her clit, stars dancing behind her eyes. She shuddered and squirmed against the wood as his tongue flicked at and circled that little bundle of nerves, gasping at the feeling and screaming out her pleasure, asking—demanding—that he didn’t stop.

Night had long since fallen upon the city now and Éponine was really beginning to think they had set some sort of new record for nonstop sex—they’d been fucking all over the suite since that morning, Enjolras seeming to have made it his mission to ensure his dear wife lost count of how many orgasms she had had over the course of the day. They had fucked in all four bedrooms, on every couch in both drawing rooms, and even on the dining table now, and at some point around noon, Éponine really had lost count of how many orgasms she had had. Now, it was nearing midnight and she was sprawled on top of the piano in the drawing room, moaning and screaming Enjolras’ name as his mouth worked its magic between her legs.

“Enjolras—oh, my _God_ —” Her next words were traded out for another pleasured shriek as she skirted closer to the edge, so close to paradise, to absolute bliss. He was growling and groaning against her clit, making her scream even louder at the sensations it sent racing through her body. She was writhing about as her thighs tightened around Enjolras’ head, the building pressure in her navel becoming too much, and with a scream of his name, she finally reached her end, coming spectacularly and going limp on the piano, grip on the wood loosening as her chest rose and fell with heavy breaths while she slowly, slowly drifted back to earth.

Enjolras lapped up the mess he’d caused before he finally looked back up, jaw aching and mouth swollen, wet, as he gazed adoringly at his shuddering wife, her eyes closed and chest heaving.

By the time Éponine was slowly sitting back up, still trembling, Enjolras stood up and asked softly, “Are you all right, love?”

“I don’t know,” Éponine breathed out, chest heaving as she gasped for air. “I’m pretty sure you fucking killed me. _Jesus_.”

“We can stop if you want to,” Enjolras told her, leaning in for a kiss.

“Mmf.” Éponine didn’t hesitate to kiss him back, sighing when she tasted herself on his lips. “Like hell we will.” She let out an involuntary moan when his hand slipped between her legs, fingers toying with her folds, before she pushed him away in a silent plea for him to stop, at least for now.

“Why don’t we take this to the bed?” she asked breathlessly, brown eyes dark with desire as they gazed into his blue. “I mean—I’m barely wearing anything already anyway.”

Enjolras had ripped off her lacy panties earlier and tossed it across the room to God knows where; at that very moment, she donned only a black bra decorated with crimson lace and Enjolras’ baby-blue button-up shirt, undone and just barely hanging off her shoulders. Her gaze trailing down, she glimpsed the sizeable bulge straining against the crotch of his pants, and she smirked. “Looks like you need some taking care of too.”

Enjolras grinned at her and wasted no time in hoisting her up, making her squeal with laughter as she instantly wrapped her legs around his waist with her arms circling his neck and let him carry her over to the bed in the master bedroom, the bedroom closest to the piano. He gently set her down on the silk sheets before climbing up on top of her, slowly prying the shirt of his that she was wearing off her shoulders, pulling his own polo over his head and about to undo his pants before Éponine beat him to it, reaching down and undoing his belt, sliding his pants down, never taking her eyes off his face as she did so and revelling in the way he dropped his forehead onto hers and groaned at the feeling of her small hands brushing his hardened cock. Once he was fully nude, she took his hands by the wrists and gently guided them to her back so he could take off her bra and toss it off the bed, and when he had done so, he pulled back to gaze into her eyes, pupils blown as he gazed down at his lovely wife.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, reaching to trace her jaw with his thumb as he whispered, not an ounce of pretence in his voice, “I love you so much, ’Ponine.”

Éponine smiled at him, flustered from his emotional declaration to her as she whispered back, “I love you, too.”

He smiled at her, tears on the verge of welling up in his eyes from how much he adored her—his _wife_!—and they stayed like that for a while before she squirmed underneath him, impatient.

“Where—where did we put the condoms again?” she asked breathlessly. They had reverted to only using condoms for a few months now, Éponine having used up all her birth control pills and not having bothered to go out and get some more. She saw no point in doing so, with how they’d been talking about having another kid for some time now.

Enjolras leaned down to press another tender kiss to his wife’s lips before he went over to one of the bedside tables to grab a condom out of one of the three boxes they’d brought along with them, holding it between his teeth as he crawled back over to Éponine. “Here you go,” he told her softly, gazing at her as she took the condom from him and ripped the wrapper open, groaning when she reached down to roll the rubber over his swollen length before she tossed the wrapper aside.

“Go ahead,” Éponine whispered to him, grinning as she added, “I’ll let you be on top this time.” She bit down on her lip in anticipation as he mounted himself, positioning himself at her opening before he slowly pushed inside her. She gasped at the feeling, eyes rolling back as pleasured sighs and whimpers fell from her lips at the feeling of him slowly filling her, stretching her and igniting a fire within her soul.

She rolled her hips against his as he set the pace, steadily increasing in speed and thrusting into her, the only sounds in the room being their laboured breaths, their gasps and moans, skin against skin. Moonlight flooded the room through the window, a few curtains drawn here and there, and Éponine whimpered and buried her face in Enjolras’ shoulder as he pounded into her, resolute, relentless. She was just on the verge of climax when they abruptly stopped at the sound of his phone ringing on the bedside table.

Enjolras drew back to look down at her through wide eyes. “Should we answer that?”

Éponine looked over at the buzzing phone, nodding reluctantly. “Sure. Wait a bit.”

Through some expert manoeuvring, they were soon under the sheets, Éponine having somehow managed to pull the silk blankets up to their necks while keeping Enjolras still inside her, and once they had made sure nothing below the neck could be seen, they answered the call, Victoire’s face filling up the screen.

 _“Mommy!”_ she shrieked in delight, seemingly oblivious to how Enjolras was on top of Éponine and they were both clearly dishevelled, wrapped up in the blankets. _“Daddy!”_

Éponine and Enjolras exchanged a look, the former barely resisting a snort of laughter. Cock-blocked by their own daughter.

“Hi, baby,” Éponine called out, grinning at the phone and giggling when Enjolras buried his face in her shoulder to hide how his cheeks burned scarlet, embarrassed beyond belief at being caught in such a compromising position. She remained unfazed, asking Victoire, “How are things with Nana and Papa?”

 _“Good!”_ Victoire replied, dark eyes bright.

 _“Okay, honey, let Nana hold it.”_ Enjolras lifted his head just slightly at the sound of his mother’s voice, catching a glimpse of Angela coming into view. She smiled upon seeing her son and daughter-in-law through the video call, apparently blind to how he was on top of her and they both clearly looked like they had just been fucking.

 _“How’s it going over there?”_ she asked brightly, a trillion-watt smile on her face.

“Good God, Mother, what time is it back there?” Enjolras asked in mortification, cheeks burning.

 _“Just around six o’clock, we just finished eating dinner,”_ Angela replied. _“We’ll be putting Victoire to bed in an hour or so. She wanted to talk to you two before she goes to sleep. She really misses you.”_

Éponine smiled sadly. “We really miss her, too.”

 _“Mommy!”_ Victoire soon came back into the frame, waving a little sheet of paper around. _“Look what I daw!”_

Éponine laughed, seeing three stick figures surrounded by spirals and zigzags, all clumsily scribbled onto the paper with blunt crayon. “Ooh, what is it?”

 _“That me,”_ Victoire told her, pointing at the littlest stick figure, crooked yellow lines seeming to serve as hair. Pointing at the stick figure with dark brown lines for hair, she went on, _“That Mommy!”_ She then pointed at the last stick figure, with yellow spirals for hair and a smaller smile than the other two stick figures, concluding enthusiastically, _“And that you, Daddy!”_

Enjolras chuckled, smiling at his daughter’s work. “Nice job, Peanut.”

 _“What’s your suite like over there?”_ Angela questioned, biting her lip anxiously. _“Is it good enough?”_

Éponine let out a little stunned laugh. “It’s way more than good enough. Thank you for paying for all this.”

 _“Oh, it was nothing,”_ Angela replied, though she still beamed at them, evidently pleased with herself.

“Mother, if you don’t mind, could we please schedule a call for another time?” Enjolras interjected, his entire face burning scarlet. “’Ponine and I were… in the middle of something, up until you called.”

 _“Hmm?”_ Angela’s gaze drifted downwards and her blue eyes widened as she noticed for the first time how they were covered in a blanket and what little of them she saw underneath seemed to be unclothed. _“Oh! Oh, my goodness, I’m so sorry, honey. All right, wait just a bit.”_

Within moments, Victoire was in front of the phone again, and they could hear Angela telling her off-screen, _“It’s time to say bye bye to Mommy and Daddy for the night, Victoire.”_

She waved wildly at them through the camera, beaming. _“Bye bye, Mommy!”_ she called. _“Bye bye, Daddy!”_

Éponine giggled, a fond smile on her face. “Bye bye, Vicky. Mommy and Daddy love you so much.”

Enjolras couldn’t help but smile at the way a bright dimpled grin lit up Victoire’s little face at Éponine’s words, saying, “Good night, Victoire. We love you.”

 _“Night night, Daddy! Night night, Mommy!”_ Victoire responded, her smile looking as if it would split her face in half. _“I love you!”_

The screen had soon gone black and Enjolras proceeded to unceremoniously toss the phone aside, only now remembering how he was still inside Éponine. Pulling himself up with a low grunt, he muttered, “So where were we?”

Éponine reached up to wrap her arms around him, pulling him closer to her and letting out a little squeak of surprise when he moved inside her, ever so slight. An idea popped into her mind just then; she revelled in how he let out a surprised yelp when she managed to flip themselves over so she’d be on top of him, sitting up and straddling him, and her darkened gaze found his as she whispered with a devilish smirk, “Back to business.”

* * *

Éponine walked leisurely into the dining room with a slight limp, dressed in nothing but lingerie underneath one of Enjolras’ Hufflepuff T-shirts despite the fact that she was a Gryffindor that was much too big on her, falling to her mid-thighs, the following morning to find him there sitting at the table already, having ordered a continental breakfast and blueberry waffles from downstairs for the two of them. He smiled upon seeing her enter, getting to his feet as she approached him and leaning down to press a good morning kiss to her lips once they were face to face. Éponine blushed pink under his adoring gaze as she went to sit down across from him, eagerly grabbing a plate of waffles for herself.

“You’re in a good mood,” she observed out loud, a teasing little grin on her face as she nibbled on the edge of a waffle.

She almost choked on her waffle when Enjolras actually _beamed_ at her, full-on _beaming_ , his sparkly-eyed smile looking as if it would split his entire face in half if it grew any wider. Swallowing quickly, she grabbed the glass of water he had poured for her prior to her coming in and downed half of it in one gulp, gasping under her breath once she had done so. He reached out for her hand, taking it in his and rubbing the back of her hand tenderly with his thumb.

“Are you all right, love?” he asked softly.

“Nothing, just…” She laughed to herself—really, it was more of a giggle—and shook her head. “You’ve been so happy lately, and you show it. It kind of freaks me out, you’re usually such a stoic person.”

Enjolras laughed, giving her hand an affectionate squeeze. “Why shouldn’t I be happy? We’re married and we’re on our honeymoon and you’re my _wife_ and I love you. So much. So, so much. More than words can describe.” He brought her hand to his lips to press kisses to each of her knuckles, making her giggle, flustered beyond belief. “You’re my wife, and you are the most amazing person I’ve ever met. My wife is an absolute badass. My wife gave birth to the most perfect daughter ever, but before she became my wife. But you’re my wife now. We’re _married_ and you’re my _wife_.” He laughed giddily to himself, still hardly able to believe it. She was his wife and he loved her so, so much. “You’re my _wife_ ,” he repeated in a murmur, mostly to himself. “Oh, my God.”

“If you keep saying it, you’ll wear it out eventually, you know,” Éponine told him as she kept herself from laughing, holding up her waffle with her free hand and nibbling on it, resisting a grin at the giddy smile on her husband’s face.

“No, I won’t,” Enjolras contradicted gently but firmly, confident as could be. “You’re my wife, and I will never get tired of saying that. You’re the love of my life, ’Ponine, and now you’re my _wife_. God, I can’t see myself spending my life with anyone but you.” He chuckled to himself, breaking eye contact to look down at the table and smile goofily to himself. “My wife.”

“You have said the words ‘my wife’ eleven times in the past three minutes alone,” Éponine informed him with a little grin on her face. She was obviously making fun of him, but he couldn’t care less about that, knowing it was her own odd little way of showing affection.

Enjolras pursed his lips, commenting, “Only eleven? I can do better than that.”

Éponine snorted, thankful that she hadn’t been drinking water, otherwise she would have spat it out all over Enjolras and the table and their breakfast. “God, I love you.”

The way he smiled, so bright-eyed, looking at her like she hung the moon and stars, blue eyes sparkling with adoration—it put the sun to shame. “I love you, too.”

Éponine giggled as her cheeks flushed pink, flustered by his honesty, and she broke eye contact to stare down at the table as she took a bigger bite out of her waffle. “So what’s on that itinerary you made for us for today, chief?” she asked through a mouthful of blueberry and waffle, raising her eyebrows at him.

He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb, gazing down at how her hand fit so perfectly into his. “Why don’t you choose where we go today? I’ve booked us tickets for a tour of Victor Hugo’s place, but that’s not until in four days. We can buy tickets for a hop-on/hop-off bus tour, if you want. Up to you.”

Éponine put what little was left of her waffle down on her plate, a contemplative look crossing her face as she considered it for a bit. “I think we should just walk around the city,” she suggested. “Just take time for ourselves and relax while walking around.” She glanced out the window to find that it was rather cloudy out, silvery-grey clouds having gathered in the sky with the barest sunlight managing to peek out. “Looks like it’s going to rain. I’ve always wanted to walk around Paris in the rain.”

“Well, we’ll do just that, then.” Enjolras squeezed her hand once again, smiling fondly at her. “We packed umbrellas, right?”

Éponine nodded. “Three. Two little ones for each of us and a bigger one if you want to share it.”

“We’ll use the bigger one.” Enjolras tapped his foot on the floor, brow furrowing in concern when Éponine winced slightly as she shifted in her seat. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, just a little sore from yesterday,” Éponine replied, sheepish. “And last night. And this morning.” Her cheeks flushed red at the thought of how much they had done barely twenty-four hours into their honeymoon.

Enjolras’ cheeks flamed scarlet at the obvious implications in her words, looking down at his half-empty glass of apple juice before him and biting his lip, resisting a soft laugh. “Did you…” He let out a breathy, somewhat derisive laugh, shaking his head to himself. “Did you enjoy it, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Éponine threw her head back and cackled at his blunt but adorably tentative question. “Christ, Enjolras, of course I did,” she replied after getting her laughter under control. “You’re the only person who can really fuck me thoroughly. One of the many reasons why I married you. Last penis of my life.” She giggled at the startled look on his face at her rather vulgar remark, bringing her hand to her mouth to stifle her sniggering.

Her eyes raked over him, inspecting the white T-shirt undershirt he had on and resisting a little smile at how his biceps seemed to be straining against the tight fabric. She rubbed her thighs together, letting out a little sigh at how heat engulfed the space between her legs, and she murmured as she lifted her glass of water to her mouth, “You know, you have my full consent for the rest of the day if you want to do any sex stuff.”

She giggled at how Enjolras’ cheeks burned scarlet at her candour, biting back a smile as she took a sip of her water while he nodded, still blushing madly. “Tell me whenever you want to take it back,” he mumbled, looking down at his plate. “Tell me if you ever want me to stop.”

She grinned at him and nodded in assent, going back to nibbling on her waffle and soon finishing it, upon which she took out her phone to scroll through Instagram for a bit. Marius and Cosette had spammed her feed with endless pictures of their twins Aimée and Adrien, some of them staged and most of them candids, with photographs of Toby the Yorkie from Grantaire and Courfeyrac’s countless videos of little Louis doing something cute accompanied with captions gushing all about it interspersed throughout. She hardly noticed how Enjolras slithered underneath the table, slowly, carefully, approaching her from under the table and gently prying her legs apart, eliciting a squeak of surprise.

She pulled back to look down at him between her legs. “What are—what are you doing?”

Enjolras shrugged, smiling coyly up at his wife. “I haven’t had some proper breakfast yet.”

It took all of Éponine’s willpower for her to keep herself from smacking him; still, she was unable to swallow the spontaneous laugh that fell from her lips. “Oh, my _God_ , ’Jolras, you’re _impossible_.”

He ran his hand along her thigh, effectively shutting her up as he asked softly, “But are you sure you’re all right with this? Like I said, if you want me to stop, just tell me to stop.”

“Go right ahead, but like…” She shook her head and laughed under her breath to herself. “God, that was terrible. You’re terrible. Am I really just a snack to you?”

“No, I’d say you’re an entire meal,” Enjolras replied with a smirk on his face as he gently tugged her panties down, placing them aside on the floor before he pried her legs even further apart, being met with warmth. Pressing a kiss to her slit and smirking to himself at how she let out a quiet moan, he murmured, “And a very good meal, at that. I’d say the best meal of my entire life.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Éponine hissed, blushing fiercely.

He looked up at her and smiled, adoring, venerating. “Feel free to go back to whatever you were doing. Or not. Your call.”

“Well, if you say so…” Éponine went back to aimlessly scrolling through Instagram, though those plans were quickly diminished the moment she felt Enjolras’ mouth on her.

A surprised moan escaped her throat when he buried his face between her thighs, lips wrapping around that little pearl of nerves, and he began to suck, grabbing at the edge of the table and gripping it hard to keep herself steady. Her breathing was quick to become erratic, laboured, heart racing as his tongue flicked at and pressed against her clit, lapping at her eagerly and letting out little growls against her, the vibrations making her nearly scream out. She moved her trembling legs over his shoulders, pulling him close; the way his skilful tongue moved against her was making stars dance behind her eyes as she squealed, gasping, throwing her head back. She almost didn’t notice how her phone was ringing until Enjolras pointed it out to her, detaching his lips momentarily from her to whisper to her.

“You should probably answer that,” he told her softly, waiting only a couple of seconds before going right back to work.

Éponine let out another pleasured moan at the feeling before she managed to keep the volume to a minimum long enough to answer the phone, seeing that it was Grantaire calling. Holding it up to her ear, she squeezed her eyes shut, biting the insides of her cheeks to keep herself from crying out at the way Enjolras was licking furiously into her.

“H-hello?” she managed to greet, hardly able to keep her surprised gasp from escaping her lungs when Enjolras hit a particularly sensitive spot. “Jesus fuck, what’s the time over there?”

 _“Only three in the morning? Mind your own business,”_ Grantaire replied, impudent as ever. _“You’re breathing real hard, I can hear you. You sound like you’re dying.”_

“I’m—I’m fine,” Éponine replied, sucking in a deep breath when Enjolras upped the pace, his tongue moving insistently against her; had she not been on the phone, she would have screamed out at the sensation. “You mind _your_ business. Why are you up so early?”

 _“What did we_ just _say about minding our own business?”_ Even as he said that, Éponine could hear the good-natured chuckle in Grantaire’s voice. _“For your information, Jehan just fell asleep, we just had sex and he’s tired.”_

“Oh, God.” Éponine made a face as a little noise of disgust fell from her mouth before she let out the tiniest moan at the feeling of Enjolras’ insistent lips on her clit. “That’s way too much information.”

 _“Hey, you asked, I answered.”_ Grantaire fell silent for a bit, listening to the faint sounds of Éponine’s panting through the phone, and he finally asked, _“You’re fucking Enjy right now, aren’t you?”_

“Absolutely _not_!” Éponine attempted to sound scandalised, thoroughly failing when her voice cracked on the last word as she shuddered, squeezing her eyes shut once more and sucking in a breath.

 _“I don’t hear him.”_ Éponine imagined Grantaire was contemplating things at the other end, going by his silence, before he finally mused, _“Oh, he’s giving you head, isn’t he?”_

“This conversation is over,” Éponine promptly announced, thankful beyond belief for the fact that Grantaire couldn’t see how she had turned nearly the same shade of scarlet as the T-shirt she was wearing. “I’ll—I’ll call you later.”

Without waiting for a response, she hung up and placed the phone back on the table, finally letting herself moan out once again, gripping the edge of the table and tossing her head back as her moans steadily became shouts, squeals, her pleasured shrieks like music to Enjolras’ ears. He had always liked this, making his wife scream out in that way only he knew how to do, the only word in her vocabulary having become his name, and he could tell that she was close, with the way her screams of his name had quickly spiralled down into an incoherent mess of whimpers and how her thighs tightened around his head.

“’Jolras— _Enjolras_ —oh, _fuck_ —”

It wasn’t long until she was unravelling at the seams, letting out a strangled scream of his name before she all but collapsed in her seat, panting, chest heaving as she struggled for air. He heard her whimper as he lapped up the mess she’d made before pressing a tender kiss to the inside of her thigh. He was gazing up at her when she came to her senses, vision focusing once more, on him.

“Jesus _fuck_ ,” she cursed under her breath, laughing breathlessly to herself as her gaze found her husband’s. She smiled down at him, asking, “Did you have a good breakfast? It’s organic.”

He simply smirked in return. “Best breakfast I’ve ever had.”

* * *

There was a slight chill in the air as they strolled leisurely down the streets of Paris, the leaves in all shades of red and gold and orange and spiralling down sporadically to the pavements as the wind breezed through their hair, sending delightful shivers down Éponine’s spine. She was hugging Enjolras’ arm, her trench coat wrapped tight around herself and her brown newsboy cap upon her head, her feet snug in a pair of chocolate-brown low-heel suede booties Cosette had given to her for her twenty-sixth birthday. It was pure bliss, just walking aimlessly down the Paris streets with her _husband_ and chatting between themselves about absolute nonsense.

“So your birthday’s coming up,” Éponine commented, voicing her thoughts aloud as she kicked at a few leaves. “A birthday during a honeymoon.” She laughed, squeezing Enjolras’ hand as she hugged his arm tighter. “Imagine that.”

“I just wish Victoire could be here for my birthday,” Enjolras murmured, biting his lip. He missed their daughter an awful lot, and it had only been a couple of days.

“We’ll call her on your birthday night,” Éponine promised him. Another thought then struck her and the smile on her face was quick to twist into a shit-eating grin as she quipped, “Fitting, how it’s going to be the third anniversary of her conception.”

Enjolras flushed scarlet in an instant, burying his face in Éponine’s hair to hide his blush of embarrassment, mumbling, “You are never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Be honest, pretty boy, that was the best fucking birthday you’ve ever had in your goddamn _life_ ,” Éponine pointed out saucily, her grin only growing wider as Enjolras looked back up so he could actually see where he was going.

“Thus far,” he mumbled, mostly to himself, though his quiet words weren’t lost on Éponine, who smirked triumphantly. “But this year’s birthday is going to be the best.”

“Mm? How so?” Éponine stopped to turn and face him, reaching up to loop her arms around his neck and standing on tiptoe to nuzzle her nose against his. “What could possibly be so great about turning twenty-seven? It’ll be just like every other year in your shitty twenties.”

“I couldn’t care less about turning twenty-seven,” Enjolras confided, unable to keep the little smile off his face, not when she was so close to him, so shamelessly initiating PDA like that; it seemed they had temporarily lifted their unofficial ban on PDA for their honeymoon. “And my twenties actually haven’t been that shitty, surprisingly enough. I’ve had you and the others with me for all of it thus far, and now Victoire.” It was no secret that his wife and their daughter were the lights of his life.

He smiled at how a faint blush rose to Éponine’s cheeks, flustered by his candid words. “You never answered my actual question,” she reminded him softly.

“It’ll be the best birthday because it’s going to be my first birthday with my wife,” Enjolras explained, his voice equally as soft as hers, if not more so. “My first birthday during which I’ll have a _wife_. And _you’re_ my wife. God, I love you so much.”

Éponine giggled and leaned in to press her forehead to his, one hand reaching up to ruffle his golden curls. “I love you so much too. You’re gross.”

Enjolras chuckled and pulled her in for a kiss, wrapping his arms tight around her waist as he pulled her flush against him, pressing his lips to hers. She smiled when he deepened the kiss, face growing hot as she whispered against his lips, “We’re in public.”

“This is France,” he pointed out, laughing softly. “ _Fifty Shades of Grey_ was rated twelve and up when it was released in theatres here, I think we’ll be fine.”

Éponine snorted at that absolutely preposterous tidbit and kissed him, lips capturing his, sighing at the way warmth spread throughout her entire body; his lips were so soft and warm, his arms strong and lean as they held her tight, and she could hardly believe that this, this heavenly bliss, was it for the rest of their lives. He was her forever and she wouldn’t change a single thing about it.

Breathless by the time they broke apart, Éponine giggled as she ran her fingers through Enjolras’ hair, murmuring, “So where to?”

“Why don’t we just keep walking and see where that takes us?” Enjolras offered, his lips stretched into a giddy little grin, so unlike his usual stoic countenance.

Éponine grinned and kissed the tip of his nose. “Sounds good to me.”

She slipped her hand into his, swinging their arms as they went on walking, bewitched by the sights of Paris, Éponine often adding in her own commentary. “Everything here is so classy,” she remarked as they went down the steps to walk along the bank of the Seine, watching as a _Bateaux Mouche_ boat lazily drifted past on the sparkling water. “Where’s that bridge with the locks?”

“It’s just over there,” Enjolras replied. “The Pont des Arts.” He pointed to the bridge in question in the distance; from his calculations, it would take about fifteen minutes for them to get there by foot.

Éponine grinned. “Excellent. Let’s go put a lock on that bridge.”

Without awaiting his reply, Éponine was dragging Enjolras off before he fell into step beside her, their arms swinging as they made their way up into the Paris streets, a slight chill in the air as clouds gathered above, alerting them that rain was soon to come. Éponine began skipping, pulling Enjolras along and laughing at the staggered look on his face as she brought her hand up to place it on her cap to keep it on, her laughter ringing out through the air. She didn’t give a damn about how people were beginning to look at her funny as she swung Enjolras’ arm while they strolled leisurely on the pavement, making their way to the Pont des Arts.

Once they had bought a lock and key from a nearby kiosk, they went to the centre of the bridge, looking out at the city, at the glittering water of the Seine. “I love this place,” Éponine murmured, mostly to herself, as she leaned her head against Enjolras’ shoulder when she felt his arm slip around her waist. “We should take Vicky here one day.”

Enjolras smiled and turned to kiss the top of her head. “We will.”

Éponine sighed wistfully, fingers absently trailing along the railing. “I miss her so much.”

“Me too.” Enjolras glanced down at the lock and key in his free hand, absently rolling the key between his fingers. “Should we write something on this before we put it on the bridge?”

Éponine scrunched up her face at him. “Do I look like the kind of person to have a Sharpie on me at all times?”

Enjolras chuckled, reaching into his pocket and digging around before producing a black Sharpie, much to Éponine’s shock. “Good thing I am, then.”

“Okay, write our names,” Éponine instructed, watching as Enjolras did as he was told. “Okay, now write our wedding date. Dash. Infinity symbol.”

She clapped her hands together, squealing in delight once it was done, and she watched as Enjolras placed the lock on the bridge and locked it into place, handing her the key afterwards. “Would you like to do the honours, mademoiselle?” he made a big show out of asking, a little smile on his face.

Éponine grinned up at him and took the key, tossing it over the railing and into the river. She leaned a little too far over the railing, nearly losing her hat in the process, to watch as it splashed into the glistening water, sinking into the depths. “That settles it,” she mused, mostly to herself, before straightening back up to turn to Enjolras, a soft smile on her face as she reached up to loop her arms around his neck. “Together forever.”

Enjolras smiled down at her, his heart swelling at the sight of the sparkly-eyed look on his wife’s face, dimples carved deep into her cheeks as she beamed up at him. “My wife,” he murmured, bowing his head to avert his gaze and smiling when one of her hands slid up to tangle in his golden curls.

Éponine grinned and leaned in to nuzzle the tip of her nose against his, singsonging, “My huuuuusband.”

Enjolras closed his eyes and grinned, goofy, content. Yeah, he could get used to this.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was super long, if i do say so myself, and it was only the first part of what'll probably be a two- or three-parter (depending on how things turn out)! first fic posted in 2019, yay! let's hope i finally get shit done this year!! happy 20biteen from your favourite (hopefully?) bi disaster fic writer!!!
> 
> let me know what you think!! comments are like crack to me
> 
> can be caught yelling about my love for aaron tveit and bitching about how much of a train wreck bbc les mis is over at [@bisexual-eponine](https://bisexual-eponine.tumblr.com/) on the tungblor dot hell


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